The Closing of the Year
by RedGrayBall
Summary: As Christmas approaches, Beckett gets a little help in realising that by keeping Castle waiting for her, she's also been putting off her own life. A tribute to Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol".
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's note: A brief hiatus from 'Thaw' and 'Vacation', each of which I'll return to, for a Christmas tale.**_

_**There's something magic about this time of year. I thought it might have an effect on Beckett, as she made Castle wait before admitting her feelings for him.**_

* * *

The city was a different place in Winter.

There was still the traffic, and the people, and the grime and the bustle. The street names were the same, and all too often she'd get a call in the early morning because a life had ended. Those things were all still the same.

But the setting had changed.

Windows bore frost around the edges, and breath plumed in the chill air. Noise was muffled slightly, t-shirts and bright colours vanished in favour of dark sweaters, coats and scarves, and lights twinkled everywhere. Once in a while, it even snowed.

There was a stillness, somehow - and in New York City, stillness was magical.

Detective Kate Beckett tapped a pen rhythmically against the scarred wooden surface of her desk as she gave the report a final read-through.

She finished a few minutes later, and put the file folder into her Out pile with small sigh of satisfaction. She took a swallow of coffee, easing back in her chair for a moment.

"Two weeks," Castle said loudly, making her glance over in his direction with a weary expression on her face.

He wasn't looking at her, still busy clearing the board from the case they'd just solved. It had been straightforward, which made a nice change, but that had just given him more time to be annoying.

"And one day," she replied, seeing him smirk as he pulled another photo from the board.

"Close enough," he said, briefly glancing around at her.

He had been doing this since the beginning of the month: his countdown to Christmas. She wondered for the twentieth time how his family dealt with it.

He pulled the last mugshot from the board and packed it into the case file, then carefully erased the timeline before stepping back to consider his work, arms smugly folded.

She watched him, still clasping her mug of coffee.

_Big kid_, she thought, and a smirk curled the corners of her mouth.

He turned around suddenly, and caught her looking at him. He raised a salacious eyebrow as he walked over to her desk, and she shook her head.

"So what does Alexis want this year?" she asked, and she saw his grin falter.

"A scooter," he replied, in a tone that couldn't have been more grim if the girl had asked for a firearm instead.

Beckett laughed, and he wrinkled his nose at her.

"Have you _seen_ how dangerous it is to even drive in this city, Beckett? And that's when you're in a steel cage. With airbags and a seatbelt!"

He had been about to sit down in his chair, but now he folded his arms again and started pacing back and forth.

She shifted in her seat slightly, recrossing her legs, content to watch him fussing.

"… but at least she said she'd wear a helmet. I could get her motorbike leathers. Can you wear those on a scooter? I guess you can. I should LoJack the damned thing too. Oh, and she wants it to be green."

He stopped abruptly and turned to look at her, clearly expecting some kind of response.

"Uh… that'll… go well with her hair?" she said, keeping a straight face only with some effort.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he scrutinised her, trying to work out if she was being sarcastic, but after a moment he just shrugged and dropped into his chair with a sigh.

"I remember when the thing she wanted most in the whole world was an astronaut costume."

His face softened at the memory, eyes sparkling. "Man, that was the _coolest_. The backpack had lights and everything, and the visor was tinted gold like the real ones - it filters out radiation."

He glanced towards her, and she nodded solemnly.

"We played moon landing for a straight week. I put grey sheets over the furniture to make moon rocks. Sometimes I was an alien."

This revelation proved to be too much, and she snorted with laughter, drawing a surprised but delighted look from him.

"What?" he asked, an easy smile on his face, and she just shook her head.

"She's the most sensible kid I've ever met, Castle. She'll be careful."

"It's the other drivers I'm worried about," he said, and she tilted her head to acknowledge the point.

"If you want, I can talk to her about road safety on a bike. Give her some pointers, and let her know what to look out for."

He beamed at her, leaning slightly forward in his chair. The gratitude and affection in his eyes was plain to see, and her pulse quickened. Her grip tightened on the coffee cup.

"Thanks," he said. "Yeah, that would be really great."

He lifted his hand and her gaze flicked down to it as he looked at her and hesitated, but then he just patted the surface of the desk and cleared his throat, looking away.

She felt the usual procession of emotions. Anxiety, anticipation, relief, disappointment.

_Boundaries_, she thought. _Mine_.

"No problem," she said, and he nodded gratefully, looking at her briefly again before picking at an imaginary piece of lint on his shirt sleeve.

He had been waiting for her for a long time now.

When she really thought about it, she supposed he'd been waiting for years, but the past few months had been different. He'd been different.

On the surface, his behaviour hadn't changed, but she knew him better than most people did. He was more tentative now. The flirting was a little less cheeky, and had an edge of approaching and retreating. Testing and assessing. The looks were all earnest, and that made them poignant.

There were days where she found it stifling, constantly ignoring the truth she saw in his eyes, and in his gestures, and in the care he took when he was with her. The truth she'd heard as she lay on the grass, vision fading, at a funeral. The truth she'd told him she'd forgotten.

There were weeks when it was less intense. He'd get distracted by a case, or he'd really get into the zone with his writing, or sometimes he'd disappear for a few days on a publicity tour. She'd get some breathing room, and she'd tell herself that she needed it. Then she'd feel the usual procession of emotions. Relief and disappointment.

He was in love with her. It was true when he said it that day, just before everything went dark, and - in the occasional moments, mostly late at night, when she was honest with herself - she knew it was still true now. Maybe more true than ever.

Her eyes fell to the parade of elephants on her desk, and the familiar dart of mixed nostalgia and loss twisted through her chest.

_I'm waiting too_, she thought.

She reached out and ran a fingertip around the curve of the lead elephant's trunk, feeling the cool smoothness of the porcelain. She saw Castle's head move in her peripheral vision, and when she glanced up, he was looking down at the figurines too.

The expression on his face made her eyes widen. There was compassion there, and pity. Anger. Determination. But there was also fatigue, and frustration, and a deep sadness.

The line of brightly painted elephants, in procession from trunk to tail, biggest to smallest, formed a low barrier along the rear edge of her desk, nearest where he sat. A wall.

A moment later, he carefully schooled his features into a look of quiet contemplation, but his eyes were still stormy as he glanced away again and then idly took out his phone.

_I'm waiting to live my life_, she thought.

Her mother's face swam into her mind, and the image was so vivid it was almost like she sat on the other side of the desk. A memory surfaced, from long ago, and suddenly she was fourteen years old again, sitting cross-legged on her bed, with tear-tracks on her cheeks.

Johanna sat on the bed beside her, holding both her hands, listening quietly to the tale of the girls at high school whose words had been cruel.

She hadn't thought about this moment in years, and she couldn't even recall what the incident had been about. The wrong shoes? Beating the boys at their own games? Probably something like that. But she did remember her mother's quiet, patient listening - and how she'd gently squeezed her hands once the story had been told.

"_Live your own life, Katie_," her mother had said that night. "_Don't let other people hold you back._"

Beckett closed her eyes, and took a cleansing breath before opening them again.

She risked a glance towards Castle, and saw that he was swiping at the screen of his phone with his thumb, a small smile playing across his lips. He'd clearly found something new to distract him, for a few minutes at least.

_Still there_.

Being patient, for her, like her mother had been. Waiting.

He seemed to sense her eyes on him, and he looked up. Curiosity. Caution. Quiet warmth.

"It got cold," she said after a moment, grasping the coffee cup again. "You want another?"

He smiled and sprang up before she could push her chair back.

"I'll get it," he said brightly, gesturing that she should stay in her seat. He reached over and snagged her mug, and also his own empty one.

"Castle, I don't mind–" she began, but he quirked an eyebrow at her and shook his head.

"Hey, what else do you keep me around for?" he replied with a grin, then strode off in the direction of the break room.

She watched him go, his words hanging heavily in the air. Her gaze fell again to the elephants, and she traced the band of light made by the overhead fluorescents against the glaze.

The lead elephant's head was thrown back, and one painted eye looked up at her unblinkingly.

_Live your own life, Katie_, it seemed to say.

She shivered, and drew her arms around herself.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's note: OK, here we go. This is a very different approach from my usual stuff, but this is also a unique time of year. The story is planned out fully, so hopefully we can push straight through. I hope you'll give it a chance. I'll be updating over the festive period if possible.**_

_**The kind words and continued readership mean a great deal to me. Thank you, and enjoy the holidays.**_

* * *

Christmas music was omnipresent. On every radio, blaring from every store, and in every TV ad break.

Trees had started appearing all over the city, festooned with twinkling lights, and the occasional Santa hat was easily noticeable bobbing above the heads of pedestrians.

The last couple of days had been quiet, mostly taken up with paperwork. She hadn't seen Castle yesterday, but he did text a complaint while he was shopping for a scooter for Alexis, and she had replied, telling him to quit moaning and just trust his daughter. He had sent back an unhappy face, then a few hours later an icon of a wrapped gift. She responded with a thumbs-up icon, smiling to herself.

The streets were very busy today, so she'd had to park a few blocks from the precinct, but she didn't really mind. She felt like she could use the brief walk.

An elaborately decorated store window caught her eye, and she turned to look. It was a toy shop, in the traditional style, and there was a family standing peering in: a man, a woman, and a little boy who couldn't have been more than five years old.

The main part of the window had an electric train set running, but there were also all kinds of wooden toys, action figures, playsets and plush animals on display. The boy was pointing at something excitedly, and his father crouched down to follow his son's gaze.

A large, grey plush elephant sat at the rear right corner of the window display, smiling brightly, with vivid blue eyes and floppy pink-rimmed ears. Another, smaller elephant sat beside, this one with sewn-in eyelashes and a pretty bow attached to the top of its head.

Beckett's step faltered briefly, then she continued on. She had a distracted smile on her face, but she wasn't aware of it.

After passing another few stores, she reached a crosswalk and waited for the lights to change. Standing in front of her, there was a couple, perhaps in their late twenties. The young man had his arm around his girlfriend's shoulder, and he was whispering something tender into her ear. The woman smiled sweetly up at him, looking at his face adoringly for a moment before kissing him.

Beckett looked away, not wanting to be caught staring at them. Her gaze instead fell on a blonde woman who was also waiting to cross, standing nearer the other side of the pavement. She had striking eyes – though Beckett wasn't sure what colour they were – and a soft, contemplative expression, and her hair glowed in the morning light. She was looking directly back at her.

The lights changed and the small crowd of people moved off as one. Beckett stepped onto the road, glancing around briefly, but the blonde woman was nowhere to be found. As she walked, her mind strayed back to the couple she'd seen.

_Maybe going to the park_, she thought, seeing an image of the two people walking hand-in-hand, without a care in the world.

_Or shopping for gifts_. The young woman holding up possible items for approval, and the man doing his best to seem interested, and watching her when she wasn't looking.

_Even just coffee_.

Again her step faltered.

There would be coffee waiting for her at the precinct. She knew that he was coming in today; he'd texted her this morning to say so. He'd arrive with two cups, and since she was coming in at a slightly later time than usual, he'd be there before her.

_A cup of coffee, just the way I like it._ Probably a bear claw too. And he'd say the usual thing.

"Your sustenance, Detective," she muttered to herself, the edges of her mouth curling into a grin.

Her mind supplied images, unbidden. Her and Castle taking an early lunch, walking through the city like this, with no real destination in mind. Maybe even reaching the park. Walking together. He'd half-turn his head towards her, just checking she was still there. Then his hand would accidentally brush against hers.

She sighed, firmly pushing that thought away.

_Blame it on Christmas_, she thought. It was always a particularly lonely time of year for her. But she'd always survived just fine.

She reached the precinct and stepped gratefully inside, nodding to the officer on duty. She barely glanced at the small decorative tree in the entrance foyer as she marched past, heading for the elevator.

* * *

Beckett sighed, stretching her arms above her head and twisting her neck to ease the tension. It was the middle of the afternoon, and she was still at her desk, but the benign paperwork had taken a back seat. They'd caught a case less than forty minutes after she arrived this morning, and the investigation was well underway.

A man's body had been found inside an industrial dryer at a laundry that catered to various upmarket hotels in Manhattan, with no wallet or phone. Cause of death was apparently asphyxiation, and there were some fingerprints on the lapels of the man's jacket. Ryan and Esposito were out interviewing the workers at the laundry, and Castle had stepped out a little while ago to field a call from his publisher, Black Pawn.

Beckett used the period of quiet to quickly get a late lunch from the deli down the block, and now she was waiting on the fingerprints results from forensics.

She checked her phone again, but she had no new messages, so she laid the device back on her desk and stifled a sudden huge yawn. It was probably going to be another late night, and she was tired already. She rested an elbow on the desk and perched her chin on the palm of her hand, and forced herself to take another look through the business records of the laundry on her computer.

_So much for festive cheer_, she thought.

* * *

Beckett didn't look around when she noticed someone sit down in the guest chair beside her desk. She was reading a list of stakeholders for the laundry business, and had only a few to go. She finished after another few seconds, and turned to look at her visitor.

"Hello, Katie," Johanna Beckett said.

There was a moment of perfect silence, and then Beckett shot back from her desk, her office chair falling over with a bang. She instinctively glanced frantically around the bullpen, and saw that Ryan and Esposito had returned and were deep in discussion with Castle at their own desks. No-one seemed to have noticed the chair falling over.

Beckett turned to her own desk again, and saw her mother sitting patiently in the guest chair. Her chestnut hair flowed around the tops of her shoulders, immaculately styled and shining under the fluorescent strip-lighting in the bullpen. Her large, smiling eyes looked back at her daughter with warmth and affection. She wore a black cashmere sweater, a long burgundy skirt and black boots, and a thin red scarf. Her hands were folded in her lap, and Beckett could see that she was wearing her ring.

"_Mom?!_" she whispered, the word coming out as a sob, and Johanna nodded gently.

"It's me, honey," she said, still smiling. "I'm here."

Beckett fell to her knees, tears already rolling down her cheeks, and with one hand she patted her own chest, searching for the lump that her mother's ring always made there. She found it easily. She was still wearing it around her neck.

Johanna got up and quickly joined her on the scuffed floor, taking her daughter into her arms. They sat there for several minutes as Beckett sobbed, clinging to her mother's sweater with a panicky tightness. At one point, LT walked past holding a coffee cup, but the man didn't seem to notice the two women kneeling on the floor and embracing each other.

Eventually, Beckett pulled away slightly, still gripping her mother's forearms, and she searched the other woman's face. The familiar smile. The dimples in her cheeks. The perfume. And those wise and expressive eyes – though strangely, she couldn't tell what colour they were.

"How can it be you?" she asked, her voice wavering and still thick with tears. Johanna smiled gently at her, tugging her to her feet.

"Let's sit down," Johanna said, stooping to pick up Beckett's fallen chair and setting it upright again. She took her daughter's hand and led her back to the desk, and they both sat down.

Beckett was breathing rapidly, and the fine hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end.

_What the hell is happening?_

Johanna sat down in the guest chair again, smoothed her skirt, and then looked expectantly at her daughter.

"You must have a lot of questions," she said.

Beckett tried to speak, but she could only swallow another sob and simply nod. Her arms were covered with gooseflesh, and she felt disconnected from reality.

"_I'm so glad to see you,_" she sobbed once again, reaching out and grabbing her mother's hand. Warm, soft, and real. No hallucination. She caught another hint of the perfume she knew so well, and she felt that her heart might burst right out of her chest with it all.

"I'm glad to see you too, Katie," Johanna replied, squeezing her daughter's hand. "It's been too long. But I've been keeping an eye on you."

Beckett looked at her in confusion and disbelief. Her usually ordered mind was skittering away in all directions, and she was finding it difficult to hold onto a thought.

She glanced around towards Ryan and Esposito's desks, and all three men were still there. Castle was sitting on the edge of Ryan's desk now, twirling a pen while he said something about how difficult it was going to be to hide a Vespa in the loft before Christmas. She felt another squeeze of her hand, and turned back to her mother.

"You… you said you were… keeping an eye on me?" she stammered, her eyes roaming all over her mother, checking again and again that she was real, and actually, finally _here_, somehow.

Johanna nodded, and her smile faded slightly. "I'm worried about you, Katie," she said. "That's why I'm here."

Beckett took a ragged breath, reaching forward to put her other hand on her mother's knee. "I… I don't know what you mean, mom. And how can you _be_ here? I–"

"Ssh," Johanna said, patting her daughter's hand reassuringly. "That's not important right now."

Beckett opened her mouth to protest, but Johanna shook her head in the economical but firm way she always had when there was to be no argument. Beckett closed her mouth again.

"I'm here about this," Johanna said, reaching forward and effortlessly plucking the silver chain from the neck of Beckett's blouse. The ring attached to it was more tarnished then the one on her finger, but they were clearly identical.

"I'm here about your chain," she said.

Beckett frowned, confused. She lifted her hand from her mother's knee and reached up to take the ring from the other woman's grasp, holding it reverently as she always did. The tiny weight of the chain around the base of her neck was comforting.

"Do you… want this?" Beckett asked, her brow creased. "And how can you be wearing this ring, but I've still got it here, mom? This doesn't make any–"

"This chain is yours, Katie," Johanna replied, and her voice was suddenly filled with sadness. Beckett felt a chill run up her spine. "Part of that is my fault, but this chain… you've made it yourself."

Beckett felt her heart flutter in irrational panic, and for the first time in her life she felt the urge to pull the chain over her head, to get it away from her skin. She tried to, but it didn't move. Her pulse accelerated.

The chain lay against her skin, coiled and strangely cold, and suddenly she could felt it around her shoulders, pressing down. She tried to get out of her chair and stand up, but she couldn't even shift forward an inch. The chain was too heavy.

Johanna reached out and again took the ring from her daughter, turning it so it glinted in the light, but where before the chain had always whispered with a silvery, barely-audible sound, now it was different.

Beckett flinched as the tiny chain clanked and whined, metal drawing against metal in a heavy, twisting scream of abrasion. The weight increased, pushing her shoulders down, and both her hands fell to her side. She was pinned into the chair, unable even to look around to her colleagues. An old and hidden part of her mind suddenly knew that the small silver chain around her neck was just a veneer; a projection. A mask for the true chain below, not yet visible, but terrible to behold.

"_Castle_," she said, but her voice was a choked, parched whisper that didn't carry beyond where she sat.

Johanna looked at her daughter sadly, love and compassion filling her eyes. "I'm so sorry, honey," she said. "My beautiful girl."

"What's happening to me, mom?" Beckett whispered, her eyes wide with fear now. She could feel the gun at her hip, but her arms weren't responding, and there was nothing she could do with a gun here anyway.

Johanna sighed, reaching out to put a comforting palm on her daughter's knee. The chain clanked ominously at the moment, like a viper coiled around its victim's neck.

"This is the chain you've forged in life, Katie," she said, her voice a sorrowful whisper. "You've made it for yourself, link by link, all these years."

Beckett felt panic lapping around her throat, and she forced herself to breathe. She still couldn't move a muscle.

"_How?_" she asked, and her mother sighed.

"By not living your own life," Johanna replied sadly. "By putting your own happiness aside as you've searched for the man who killed me."

Beckett's blood ran ice cold. Her heart stuttered and thudded in her chest, and as she looked at the woman sat across from her, she saw Johanna's eyes change from green to hazel, brown to blue, and another colour she couldn't identify. And could she… was the back of the guest chair, just barely, visible through her?

_Not happening_, her mind chattered shrilly. _None of this is happening_.

"But it _is_ happening," Johanna said, reaching up to stroke her daughter's cheek in a gesture of such gentle affection that more tears rolled down Beckett's cheek. "It's happening every day. Every time you ignore what's right in front of you."

"_This is my life now!_" Beckett shouted, suddenly furious. "You… you were murdered, and it's my job to bring the killer to justice!"

"You made it your job," Johanna replied gently. "And you'll do it, too, someday. I promise you that. But in the meantime you put your own needs aside, as time ticks by. You have no idea how short a lifetime can be."

The cheap clock mounted on the wall along from the murder board was ticking loudly now, but its sound was that of a grandfather clock, impossibly loud. _Tick, tock, tick, tock_.

"It can all be over in a moment," Johanna said. "I learned that lesson myself."

"What can I do?" Beckett gasped as the chain clanked again, seeming to subtly move around her neck, dipping slightly down to skirt across her shoulderblades.

She was surprised when Johanna laughed, her eyes crinkling up in a warm smile that was achingly familiar.

"You never used to let me tell you what to do. What's changed?"

Beckett didn't reply, her wide eyes showing her fear. Her fingers twitched as she again tried to lift her hands, but she was powerless to do so. Johanna's smile softened.

"You always needed to see for yourself," she said. "This time most of all." Johanna abruptly stood up, adjusting her scarf and then lifting her left sleeve to look at a slender and elegant gold wristwatch.

Beckett's eyes flicked down to the watch, but it had no hands. _Oh god_, she thought.

"I have to go now, honey," Johanna said, and Beckett felt a stab of loss and panic and grief.

"_No!_" she whispered, but Johanna just shook her head sadly, and then leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on her daughter's forehead. Again the smell of her perfume enveloped Beckett.

"You don't have much time, Katie," she said. "Still just enough, but not much."

"I don't know what to _do_," Beckett pleaded, and Johanna nodded.

"I know. But they'll show you what you need to see."

Beckett blinked, glancing around as best she could without being about to turn her head, then she saw her mother smile again.

"They're not here yet, and they won't all come at once. So you can relax for now."

The chain clanked, but seemed to lighten just a fraction. Beckett could now move her neck the tiniest bit.

There was a sudden breeze, and when she looked up at her mother, Johanna Beckett was transparent. Her eyes still restlessly shifted – green to hazel to brown to blue. When she spoke, her voice seemed to come from far away.

"_You'll be visited by three spirits, Katie. Pay attention to what they show you_."

Beckett opened her mouth to reply, but Johanna was fading quickly now, her outline indistinct, and after a few more moments she was gone. The scent of her perfume still lingered in the air.

Beckett tried to move, and the chain clanked threateningly again, but her arms were responding now. She felt claustrophobic and disgusted, and she wriggled her shoulders violently back and forth, even as the chain rattled and screamed.

She thrashed, gasping with exertion and desperation, and her chair began to rock back and forth. The noise from the chain was inhumanly loud.

"Get _off_ me!" she spat, through gritted teeth, and she twisted her shoulders alternately forwards and backwards, pushing against the floor with her feet.

At last, the chain started to give. It slid, screaming and grating, and with a final almighty effort she threw her body forwards… and fell.

* * *

Beckett's head jerked up, her knuckles bouncing off the computer keyboard. The laundry company's list of stakeholders glowed on the screen just in front of her.

She pushed back from her desk, glancing quickly around the bullpen. Ryan, Esposito and Castle were nowhere to be seen. Her heart was pounding, and she could taste adrenalin in her mouth.

The guest chair was empty.

"_Jesus_," she whispered, running her hands through her hair and willing her pulse to slow. She took several deep breaths, counting to five with each inhalation and exhalation, and eventually she began to feel calmer.

She reached up to touch her own cheeks, and felt wetness there, and she hurriedly grabbed a tissue from her purse and wiped away the tear tracks. She crumpled the tissue in her hand, and looked down at her desk's surface.

The elephants looked up at her impassively. She frowned, then her eyes strayed to the half-empty coffee cup nearby.

"Ugh," she said. "Either too much or not enough."

_You'll be visited by three spirits, Katie_, her mind whispered, and she shivered.

After a moment, she reached towards the coffee cup, and then pushed it away.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time that Castle, Ryan and Esposito returned to the precinct, Beckett had composed herself once more, and none of them seemed to notice that anything was wrong. Inside, though, she was shaken.

The fingerprints results came back without a match, but they caught a break when they pulled CCTV footage from one block over and saw a delivery truck for a fabric detergent supplier leaving the vicinity of the laundry. It turned out that it had indeed delivered to the laundry that day, and the driver had seen the victim arriving with another man. Ryan and Esposito were out again, following up.

Beckett had just got off the phone with the detergent company to verify the driver's delivery route for that day, and Castle was making coffee in the break room. She decided to go and collect her coffee this time instead of waiting for him to bring it to her, so she stood up and headed across the bull pen.

When she entered the break room, Castle had his back to her, working away at the elaborate coffee machine. As always, he seemed to sense her presence.

"Time's running out," he said, and she froze.

He glanced around when she didn't respond, and he was surprised at the trepidation on her face.

"You OK?" he asked, and she nodded slowly.

"What did you mean by that?" she asked, and he blinked in confusion for a moment as he played the conversation back in his head.

"Oh, I mean Christmas shopping. I still need to get that damned scooter for Alexis. I'm going to go to a dealer tomorrow before my meeting."

_Getting jumpy, Kate_, she thought.

"Meeting?" she asked, and he made a face.

"That's what the call was about earlier. Something about the promotional stuff for the next Heat book. Sounds like one of those three-hour nightmare conferences. Ugh."

She smiled at his boyishness. "It's tough at the top, Castle."

He rolled his eyes, handing her a perfectly made cup of coffee, then he scrutinised her face thoughtfully for a moment.

"You sure you're OK?" he asked gently, and suddenly her emotions were too close to the surface.

_No, Castle, I'm not OK. I saw my mom today._

"I'm fine," she said, but he heard the slight waver in her voice, and he frowned.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked, and she paused for a moment, considering his offer, before just rolling her eyes.

She saw the familiar flash of disappointment and resignation on his face, and her stomach twisted with guilt – but there was also another emotion this time: anxiety.

_Tick, tock_.

"Suit yourself," he replied with a small smile, but she could hear the weariness in his tone. Before she could say anything else, he picked up his own freshly-made coffee and left the break room.

* * *

Beckett was still a little on edge when she finally arrived home that evening. She ate an unsatisfying meal, then sank into the couch.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly, and soon it began to eat away at her nerves. On a whim, she picked up her phone and called Lanie. The call was answered after seven or eight rings.

"_Hey girl_," Lanie said. "_What's up?_"

"Not much. Just relaxing."

"_Mm-hmm. So what's bugging you?_"

Beckett sighed. _She knows me too well_.

"I… just had a weird day, I guess."

"_Weird how? Most of your days are weird, and mine too._"

She ignored the question, instead pausing for a moment before speaking.

"So how are you and Javi doing?"

There was silence on the line for a couple of seconds, and she knew that if she could see Lanie, the other woman would be wearing her suspicious expression.

"_We're pretty good, I think. Going to spend Christmas Day together, even. What about you and writer boy?_"

Beckett's stomach twisted again, and she involuntarily glanced at the clock.

"Uh… he's spending Christmas with his family, I guess. I'm working."

Lanie knew better than to have yet another argument about how her friend always volunteered for the Christmas shift.

"_I see._"

There was another pause.

"Do you ever wonder if you've got your priorities straight?" she blurted out suddenly, then she winced.

"_Sure I do,_" Lanie said easily. "_All the time. A little less since Javi and I started making more time for each other, maybe. But, yeah. It's what we worry about most, right? Career, personal life, family… tick tock._"

Beckett felt icy fingers creep up her spine, and her gaze darted all around her apartment, noticing the shadowy corners, and the half-open doors to the darkened bedroom and bathroom.

"_What about you?_" Lanie prompted, when Beckett hadn't replied for a few seconds.

"Mm," she replied cryptically, then she heard her friend sigh.

"_Is that mm you wonder, or mm you've got your priorities straight?_"

"Mm I wonder," Beckett replied immediately, and she knew that Lanie was surprised at the admission.

"_So what are you gonna do about it?_"

More silence.

"_You don't have forever, Kate,_" Lanie said gently, and Kate frowned.

"So people keep telling me."

* * *

Castle closed the lid of his laptop and leaned back in his chair. It was after 11PM, and Alexis had gone to bed half an hour before. Martha was out for the evening, and not expected back until morning.

_Not a bad day's work_, he thought.

They'd arrested a suspect in the laundry case around 6PM, after Beckett had taken a run at him without success, they'd stashed him in holding overnight to see if he'd be more pliable the following day. It was a natural point for everyone to go home, and he'd been glad of it.

_She's been weird today_.

Beckett was usually almost unflappable, but something had been different after he'd finished his nearly hour-long call with Black Pawn, and returned to the bull pen. She'd seemed flustered, and had avoided any extended conversations for the rest of the day. Once of twice, he'd caught her staring into space, or sneaking an apprehensive glance towards him.

_Not normal Beckett behaviour_, he thought.

He reached for his phone, then he hesitated. It was late, and she had seemed unusually glad to get out of the precinct earlier. Maybe he'd been annoying her more than usual.

He sighed, then raised his head to look through the open bookshelves separating his office from the main open-plan part of the loft. He could see the twinkling lights of their Christmas tree, and the various other decorations around the space glinting in the light of assorted lamps. It was warm and cosy. A place for family.

_Maybe I should invite her over for Christmas_, he thought, feeling a tremor of trepidation at the idea. She'd just say no. She always worked on the 25th of December, for as long as he'd known her. It was like some kind of self-punishment ritual, as if she wasn't allowed to be happy at this time of year.

"Bah humbug, Kate," he muttered, again looking down at his phone. After a moment, he unlocked the device and tapped out a message, sending it before he could think better of it.

_**Remember I have my meeting at Black Pawn in the morning. Will be in later. Get some rest.**_

He sat the device down on his desk, not expecting an answer, and stood up. He stretched, hearing his neck click, then he sighed again and walked slowly towards the adjoining bedroom. He stopped halfway when he heard his phone buzz behind him.

Crossing quickly back to his desk, he pulled up the new message.

_**No rush. I think the guy will break. Hope the meeting goes well. Night.**_

_Businesslike as usual_, he thought, his heart sinking a little, then he chastised himself. "Quit doing this to yourself, Rick."

But he could never take his own advice, and his fingers were tapping out another message even as he spoke.

_**Oh, and the usual invitation to come here on Christmas still stands, by the way. Good food, good company. Night.**_

He sent the second message, and stood for ten seconds or so before shaking his head at himself.

"She's not going to reply to that," he said to the empty office, then he sat the phone down and once again set off towards his bedroom.

This time, no buzz interrupted him.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's note: Two chapters written back to back in a single afternoon. I'm off out for the evening now, but there should be more tomorrow. Hope everyone's enjoying the holidays.**_

* * *

"Freedom. Sweet, sweet freedom," Castle muttered to himself as he strode down the hall away from the conference room on the twenty-eighth floor of his publisher's building.

The meeting had gone on for just over two and a half hours, and it was already lunchtime. He'd managed to stop into a Vespa dealership before going to Black Pawn, and had chosen and ordered a green scooter to be delivered the following week. Now, his only thoughts were of finding food, coffee, and getting to the precinct.

"I'm never going to another meeting," he said to himself, waiting for the elevator as he scrolled through his Twitter feed.

"That bad, huh?" a female voice said from immediately to his left, and he flinched, startled.

The woman was fairly tall, wore an intriguing and mysterious smile, and she had striking blonde hair that was almost luminescent in the bright lighting of the hallway. Her eyes sparkled, and were an indeterminate shade of green-brown.

"Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to sneak up on you."

He grinned, slightly embarrassed. "Must have been too busy complaining," he said, and she tilted her head in acknowledgement. "Boring morning."

"I know the feeling," she said, extending a hand which he shook politely. "I'm Stephanie."

"Rick," he replied. "Been in another meeting from hell?"

"Something like that," she said, eyes twinkling as she looked at him appreciatively. There was something else in her gaze besides the attraction that he could clearly see – perhaps just a hint of amusement, or recognition.

In any case, the attention was flattering, and he was glad that she wasn't a besotted fan as he'd initially thought.

"Well, at least we get to escape for lunch now," he said, and she nodded. She seemed to think for a moment, then she reached into her purse and drew out a business card, quickly writing something on it.

"I bet my morning was more boring than yours," she said, handing him the card. "If you ever want to swap war stories, give me a call."

He smiled, pocketing the card just as the elevator arrived. "Thanks," he said warmly, being careful not to sound overly enthusiastic. He wasn't going to call her, after all – but she was attractive and he felt better than he had a few minutes before.

He reached out to keep the elevator doors open, and Stephanie shook her head. "I've got some things to finish up here," she said, and he nodded, stepping into the elevator.

"It was nice to meet you," he said. "Make sure you escape soon."

"Will do," she replied, and with one last smile she stepped away out of sight as the elevator doors slid closed.

* * *

Beckett looked up from her desk as the elevator doors pinged, admitting Castle onto the floor. He was carrying a large paper sack with the familiar logo of her favourite deli on the side, and a cup-holder with two tall takeout coffee cups perched in it.

She smiled, then quickly schooled her expression again as he approached.

"Your sustenance, detective," he said, setting the sack and the coffees down. "Did the guy break?"

"He sure did, Castle," she said, opening the bag and rummaging around in it. "Got a confession. Seems the vic and our suspect were running a little business on the side, using the laundry's vehicles to courier drugs across the city for a crime family. The vic made the mistake of trying to take an extra slice off the top of the profits."

She made a little noise of victory and pulled out a wrapped toasted sandwich, nodding at him in gratitude.

"Dirty business," Castle said, taking a sip of his coffee before setting it down on her desk, and she wrinkled her nose without even glancing at him.

"Sure didn't make a clean getaway," she quipped, again deliberately not looking at him even thought she could see his grin out of the corner of her eye.

She unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite, humming in appreciation. "Thanks, by the way," she said, after swallowing, and he half-bowed before sitting down in the guest chair.

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, then Castle's phone chirped in his pocket. He fished it out and sat it down on the edge of the desk for a moment, balancing his own sandwich in his other hand. A small rectangle of white card was stuck to the back of the device, and it fell off just as he put the phone down.

Beckett quirked an eyebrow, and reached over to pick it up. Castle's eyes followed her, but it took his mind a moment to catch up. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when she gasped.

The back of the card was blank, and then she flipped it over. The black, handwritten block letters on the otherwise empty front face of the card were easy to read.

_**NOT MUCH TIME, KATIE**_

"What is this?" she said, looking up at him with wide eyes and a noticeable pallor across her cheeks.

He frowned in confusion. "Uh, it's… I was at Black Pawn. I was just leaving. Some woman gave me her number. That's all."

She blinked several times, then looked down at the card.

_**Stephanie 555-3847**_

_Not good_, she thought, flipping the card over again to verify that the back was indeed blank. There was no sign of the message she'd seen; just a woman's name and number.

"Oh," she said, with a calmness she didn't feel, handing the card back to him.

"She just gave me her number," Castle said, almost apologetically. "I talked to her while I was waiting for the elevator. I guess she works there."

Beckett looked at him and shrugged, the momentary tide of panic subsiding enough for her to feel a different emotion.

_Stephanie, huh_, she thought, instantly disliking the name.

"A fan?" she asked evenly, and he shook his head.

"Don't think so. I didn't tell her my last name, and I'm pretty sure she didn't recognise me."

"Oh," she replied.

Castle searched for something to say, but then settled for just dropping the card onto the edge of his sandwich wrapper. "I'm not planning to call her."

"Why not?" Beckett replied, taking another bite of her own sandwich while keeping her eyes focused on the desk's surface.

"Because… I just… I'm just not. Interested."

"What's she like?"

He sighed. "Kate…" he said, and she glanced up.

"She's like me?" she asked, one eyebrow exquisitely raised and a hint of challenge on her face.

He put his sandwich down again, creases appearing on his brow. His tone shifted, and she was surprised to hear the latent irritation in his voice.

"No, she's not. But I don't know what she's like – I talked to her for sixty seconds, if that. She's a tall blonde."

_Naturally_, she thought, her lips now a thin line.

"Oh, with weird eyes, actually. Like… green-brown. Or maybe grey-blue. I dunno. Couldn't quite see. But she seemed friendly enough."

"I bet," she replied, hoping he wouldn't notice that her pulse had rocketed again.

_Weird eyes. Green-brown. Grey-blue._

She took a gulp of coffee.

"Well, you could invite her over for Christmas dinner," she said. "I'm working, by the way."

She glanced up at him again, ready to be defiant, but he was no longer looking in her direction.

"No surprise there," he replied, petulantly, unlocking his phone to read the message he'd got a minute or two earlier. His expression softened a moment later, and she felt her stomach twist again, this time in what was clearly jealousy.

_Tick, tock_, her mind whispered.

_Shut up,_ she thought.

Castle was smiling now, and he pocketed his phone and checked his wristwatch before taking another large bite of his sandwich.

"Alexis says she's coming by in a bit," he said, pointing in the vague direction of the pocket he'd put the phone into. A weight lifted from her chest, and all at once she felt ashamed.

"Oh?" she asked, trying to put some measure of apology into her gaze.

He considered her for a moment before nodding. "Apparently I have to sign something for her ski trip next year."

Beckett smiled, and Castle made a half-hearted effort to return the smile before continuing with his lunch.

* * *

Alexis arrived less than an hour later, while her father was in the restroom. The girl waited patiently beside Beckett's desk until she was noticed, then she smiled at the detective.

"Hi, Alexis," Beckett said. "Your dad said you'd be stopping by."

"Hi, Detective Beckett," the girl replied, clasping her gloved hands together.

"Cold out there, huh?" Beckett said, and Alexis nodded.

"They're saying it might even be a white Christmas - snow on the day."

"Really? Can I get you something while you wait? There's coffee and tea. Water, of course."

"I'm fine," Alexis said, shaking her head with another smile. "Did dad invite you over on Christmas Day? I know you'll probably be working, but you'd be very welcome."

Beckett shifted in her seat. "I've got a shift on the 25th, but I appreciate the offer."

Alexis nodded understandingly, and Beckett could see that she knew more than she was saying.

Castle conveniently reappeared at that moment, a wide smile springing onto his face as soon as he saw his daughter.

"Hi, pumpkin," he said loudly, striding quickly across the bull pen towards the girl, who stood up to meet him. They both wrapped their arms around each other simultaneously, and he buried his nose in the hair at the crown of her head as she pressed her cheek against his chest.

Castle placed a kiss against the girl's hair, and Beckett could see that Alexis's smile widened further.

She felt the strangest combination of emotions. Deep affection for the girl and protectiveness towards her, admiration for the man who loved his daughter so completely and unconditionally, and even a stab of jealousy towards Alexis, which she quickly buried and refused to acknowledge.

Castle and Alexis disentangled themselves from each other, and Alexis took out a stapled form from her purse. Beckett stood up and wheeled her desk chair closer to the guest chair. "I'll be back in a few," she said. "You can use my desk."

Castle smiled gratefully at her, and the two busied themselves dealing with the business at hand.

Beckett gathered up the remaining trash from lunchtime and walked slowly in the direction of the break room, stopping at the doorway to glance back across at the two members of the Castle family.

He leaned in towards his daughter and muttered something with an exaggerated eye-roll, and she laughed out loud, clutching his upper arm and then prodding him in the shoulder. He gave her an exaggerated look of annoyance, and then swooped in to peck her on the cheek.

Beckett sighed deeply, watching for another few moments before turning to enter the break room.

_You ignore what's right in front of you_, her mind whispered.

Somewhere in the distance, a church bell began to ring.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's note: A quick bonus chapter tonight. It's time for Beckett to meet the first of our three ghosts.**_

_**This is such a different approach from my usual stories here. Much closer to the day job.**_

* * *

Beckett poured a second glass of wine and took it over to the window. Sleet rattled against the glass, from a murky, slate-coloured sky. Across the skyline, a thousand windows held twinkling lights.

Her apartment was pleasantly warm, and it was Friday night. She wasn't on call tomorrow or Sunday, and she was very much looking forward to relaxing as much as possible.

"I'm just under a lot of pressure at work," she said aloud.

Her apartment made no response.

"And it's Christmas. Christmas is always hard."

Again, there was no reply. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, marking time. She glanced at it, seeing that it was a few minutes before midnight. A shiver crept up her spine, and she was furious with herself. She took a large swallow of wine, gulping it down angrily.

_Tick, tock._

Maybe he was on the phone to Stephanie.

_Tick, tock._

Maybe she was going to get ten cats, grow old without human companionship, and be found dead in a one-bedroom apartment at the age of eighty-six, her body half-eaten by her pets.

She snorted.

_Tick, tock_.

Maybe he'd called Stephanie earlier, and he was actually _with_ her right now. Maybe she was his perfect woman, all blonde and smiling, easily affectionate, and able to love him and let him love her.

Another swallow of wine.

_Tick, tock._

Maybe she was having a nervous breakdown.

"Like hell I am," she muttered, and in the distance she heard church bells again; lone notes chiming dolefully out in the swirling gloom.

She set her glass down on the windowsill, and sighed deeply.

"_Hell of a night out there, kid,_" came the voice from behind her.

She spun around, reaching for her gun at her hip even as she realised that it was across the room, on the counter.

Mike Royce sat on her sofa, as large as life. His tan leather jacket was darker in the subdued light, and he was looking down at his right hand, where he was turning a quarter over and over between his fingers.

"Oh god," she whispered, every hair on the nape of her neck standing on end. She began shuddering, and her eyes were as wide as saucers. The central heating clanked, and she grabbed at the chain around her neck before realising the source of the sound.

Royce looked up thoughtfully, and his eyes were dark, and then light, and then both at the same time.

"_I'd ask how you're doing, but you'd only lie to me,_" he said, with a wry but slightly sad grin. He paused for a moment and then stood up.

She tried to step backwards, but she already had her back against the window.

"Don't!" she cried out, and she hated the raw panic in her voice. Her arms came up defensively, even though he was more than fifteen feet away.

"_You've got nothing to fear from me, Kate,_" he said. "_Tonight I'm just the messenger._"

He stepped forward casually, and walked directly through the coffee table as if it was made of smoke.

_Or as if he is_, she thought, her mind whirling as her pulse raced. She felt shock beginning to eat away at the edges of her vision, and her hands were shaking.

"_Why don't you finish your drink, then we can talk,_" Royce said, nodding towards the wine glass.

Her eyes darted from Royce to the wine glass and back again. After a moment, she picked the glass up and drained it in a single swallow.

Royce laughed, and it was a terrible sound. Cold and echoing, and full of regret.

"I'm asleep right now," she said, putting the glass down again. "I'm having a bad dream."

"_So wake yourself up,_" Royce said, putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "_Pinch yourself. Shut your eyes and jump up and down. I've heard that works._"

Slowly, she raised both her hands, and pinched a chunk of skin on her forearm. It was painful, surprisingly so, and nothing changed.

Royce stared back at her impassively.

_Not happening_, she thought.

"_Wrong,_" Royce said, startling her.

_You can hear what I'm thinking?_

"_Makes the job a lot easier,_" he replied.

"Jesus," she said, drawing her arms around herself.

Royce shrugged, turning to look around her apartment for a moment. "_Plenty of room for ten cats, right enough._"

She didn't reply, instead glancing quickly over to where her service weapon sat in its holster. Royce was facing away from her.

"_Wouldn't work on me anyway, Kate,_" he said, without turning round. "_Oh, and he's not with the blonde. Not yet, anyway._"

Shame, relief, fear and disbelief all surged through her, and she lunged forward several steps before stopping short.

"You're dead!" she shouted, intending to be dismissive but only succeeding in sounding plaintive. Royce turned his head to look at her again.

"_You must be some kind of detective,_" he replied dryly, and suddenly her old grief at his passing rose up again. She felt tears prick the corners of her eyes.

"_Save those for yourself,_" he replied, taking a step towards her.

She shrank back, and he held his hands up, palms out.

"_Really not going to hurt you,_" he said. "_Couldn't if I wanted to. I just have to show you something._"

"I'm tired, Mike," she said, her eyes still too wide. "Maybe you could come back another time."

"_Doesn't work that way,_" he said, taking another step towards her. She backed up again, and felt the cold surface of the window against her back once more.

Royce's eyes shifted restlessly from brown to blue, green to grey, and back again. She could smell his aftershave, but she realised that he wasn't breathing. His chest didn't move at all. He blinked at her, and she shuddered.

"What if I don't want to see?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper, and Royce shrugged again.

"_That'd be a mistake, and I care about you too much to let you make it. I guess that's why she sent me._"

"Who?" Beckett asked, her voice catching, but his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Royce studied her for another few moments, then he put his hands back in his pockets.

"_It's this way,_" he said, nodding towards the door to her bedroom, over on the opposite wall.

She frowned. The door was ajar, and the room beyond was in darkness, but she could still just see the nearest edge of her bed through the gap.

Royce walked unhurriedly over to the door, grasped the handle, and pulled the door fully closed with a click. Then he twisted the handle again, pushed, and the door swung open.

Blinding light shone through into the dimness of the apartment, and Beckett screwed her eyes shut, raising a hand to block out the glare.

There was no sound whatsoever, but even with her eyes closed she could see the brilliance of the light. A panicky thought occurred to her, but Royce spoke before she could articulate it.

"_You're not dead,_" he said, and she swore she heard a throaty laugh. "_But you've seen too many movies._"

He was still standing beside the doorway, his hands now at his sides.

_What the hell,_ she thought. _Let's get this over with_.

"_That's the spirit, kid,_" he said.

"Funny," she replied.

"_All part of the service._"

She walked over to stand beside him, and he gestured towards the door. It was a solid rectangle of white brilliance, and she could feel a warm breeze from somewhere beyond.

"_Ladies first,_" Royce said. "_I'll be right behind you._"

Beckett took a deep breath, and clenched her fists.

_Maybe I'm having a nervous breakdown_, she thought, glancing at Royce again. He raised an eyebrow.

She returned her gaze to the doorway, took a deep breath, and stepped through.


	6. Chapter 6

When her eyes adjusted, Beckett saw that she was standing in a park, in bright Summer sunlight. She looked around, and Royce was standing a few steps away, watching her carefully. Her bedroom doorway was nowhere to be found.

The heat of the sun warmed her skin pleasantly. A dog barked nearby, and she became aware of the distant cry of seagulls, and the laughter of children. It was all strangely familiar.

"I've been here before," she said, struggling to locate the memory.

"_No kidding_," Royce replied, pointing into the middle distance.

She turned to follow his gaze, squinting in the light, and then her eyes widened.

Jim and Johanna Beckett sat on a blanket in an area of sunlight not far from a large tree. A few feet away, a little girl with brown curls played happily with a plush elephant.

"Oh god," Beckett said, clasping a hand over her mouth even as silent tears began to roll down her cheeks.

Royce gently grasped her elbow, and she was too preoccupied with the vision before her to even consider that she was standing in a moment from her past with a man who was already dead.

She held back at first, but the lure of the scene ahead was too powerful, and after a couple of moments she allowed herself to be led towards the family.

The girl looked up, her eyes a bright hazel shade, and Beckett froze.

_That's me,_ she thought. _Can she see me?_

But the girl's eyes tracked a distant point high above, and Beckett half-turned to see a colourful kite flying fifty feet above, flapping and twirling in the breeze.

"_You were cute,_" Royce said. "_Looks like she doesn't have a care in the world._"

"Don't do this," Beckett said, turning to face him fully. "I can't ever be her again. You've got no right to show me this."

The ghost smiled a sad smile, and shook his head.

"_We're not here for her,_" he said, then he nodded towards the man and woman nearby, and Beckett followed his gaze.

Jim Beckett looked incredibly young. The tension in his jaw was gone, and the lines around his mouth. His hair was a lustrous chestnut brown, and it came lower down his forehead than she could ever remember.

He wore a red open-necked shirt, and she saw his wristwatch glinting in the sunlight.

_That's back in my apartment_, she thought, feeling a chill run up her spine.

"How can we be here?" she asked, without looking away from her father, and Royce shrugged.

"_Don't ask me how the ride works, kid. I'm just the tour guide._"

She shot an irritated look at him, but her attention was immediately drawn back to her parents.

Jim reached an arm around his wife's shoulders, and Johanna turned towards him with a smile full of absolute love. She leaned in and kissed him softly, and he rested his forehead against hers.

Beckett fell to her knees, just ten feet or so away from them.

"Gorgeous day," Jim said, and Johanna nodded slightly, her hair brushing against his temple.

"And two gorgeous ladies," he added, as his wife reached up to lay a palm against his cheek. "I'm a lucky man."

"We're the lucky ones," Johanna said warmly, and pressed another kiss to his lips before putting her arms around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder, always keeping a watchful eye on their daughter.

"You think it'll always be like this?" he asked, and she glanced up at him.

"Katie with Mr. Ears? Probably not."

_That's what the elephant was called_, Beckett thought. _I haven't remembered that in years._

Jim chuckled, shaking his head. "You know what I mean, Jo."

"Then… no. It won't always be like this."

Now it was his turn to tilt his head to look down at his wife.

"It'll be better," Johanna said with a smile, and Jim sighed and rested his cheek against the top of her head.

Beckett was wracked with sobs, her fingers curling into the warm grass. Her younger self was chattering earnestly to the plush elephant only a few feet away, oblivious to the presence of a shadow from her own future.

"Stop it," Beckett pleaded, the front of her sweater damp with tears. "Why are you doing this?"

Royce stepped forward to stand beside her.

"_Because you need to understand,_" he said.

"That they lost everything? That her death destroyed him? Don't you think I _know_?"

Royce shook his head.

"_You're missing the point_," he said.

Beckett sprang to her feet, furious, and without thinking she slapped Royce across the face, hard. The sound was like a thunderclap, and she actually flinched and drew back.

He looked at her impassively.

"_Feel better?_" he asked, eyes shifting restlessly from blue to brown to green and even purple, then back again.

She took several breaths, trying to calm down, and she swiped tears from her cheeks angrily.

"Take me home. Or let me wake up. Or just… leave me alone, Royce."

"_Sorry, kid,_" he said, sounding genuinely regretful. "_I've got a job to do, and it's not over yet._"

He lifted his hand and she tensed, wondering if he was going to strike her back, but he only pointed over her shoulder, in a different direction from where the Beckett family were enjoying this long-ago day.

She glanced around, and then blinked in surprise.

About twenty feet away, there was a door. Just like any door in a house, but standing there in the middle of the park. It was white, recently painted, and its handle was a shallow S-shape made of brass. It wasn't attached to anything at all, and it was closed.

The door wasn't one of the ones from her apartment, and she didn't recognise it. She looked back around at Royce.

"_We've got another stop to make,_" he said, and she felt her pulse quicken.

"Whatever it is, Mike, _please_ don't do this." Her voice wavered, and she could see real pity in his strange, luminescent eyes.

"_Trust me. You need to understand._"

"So just tell me! Talk to me. Enough with memory lane!"

Her tone were of frustration, but her face was pale, with two bright pink points of colour on her cheeks. She was badly frightened, and she knew it.

"_That's the one thing I can't do, Kate,_" Royce replied, and he began walking towards the door.

She hesitated for a moment, looking back towards her mother and father, and the girl that she used to be.

_This isn't real_, she thought, but it felt absolutely real in every way. She could smell the grass, feel the breeze and the heat of the sun, and she could hear life all around her.

"_Can't stay here either,_" Royce called, and she saw that he was standing at the door now, one hand on the handle.

She took one last look back at her mother and father, then she hurried across the grass to join him.


	7. Chapter 7

Beckett stepped from the broad daylight of the park to the subdued illumination of a city apartment. Royce was still beside her, and again she glanced back over her shoulder, but the door was gone.

This place was immediately familiar.

_Mom and dad's old apartment_, she thought.

Her father had sold this place after Johanna's death, and Beckett hadn't seen it again in all the years since. She knew it had been bought by an elderly couple, but this was clearly another scene from her past.

Photos hung on the wall, and were perched all along the mantlepiece. A videogames console sat beneath the TV in the living room, and a stack of Johanna's work papers sat neatly stacked on the dining table. The clock on the wall indicated that it was past eleven o'clock at night.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked, turning to look at Royce. The ghost had wandered across the room and now stood in front of a closed door that Beckett knew connected to the apartment's rear hallway. He turned to face her, and simply nodded in the direction of the door. Without a word, he stepped right through it, vanishing from sight.

Beckett's mouth fell open at the strangeness of the situation, but then she steeled herself and walked across to where Royce had stood a moment before. She took a breath, then stepped forward.

She passed through the door without experiencing any resistance at all. There was a brief flash of darkness, then she saw Royce again. He looked at her with a glint of amusement in his eye.

"_Just don't try that at home_," he said, then he thought for a moment. "_But I guess you're already home, in a way._"

He turned and walked down the corridor, stopping in front of a door that made Beckett's pulse quicken.

_My room_.

Royce looked back at her, shrugged, then stuck his head through the wooden surface, vanishing down to the base of his neck.

Beckett quickly closed the distance between them and grasped his shoulder, pulling him fully back into the corridor.

"What are you doing?" she asked, exasperated.

"_Relax,_" he replied. "_You're asleep right now. Take a look._"

She looked doubtfully at the door, then back at Royce. He nodded, and she sighed before stepping into the doorframe, her face appearing through the other side of the door, just inside the moderately-sized room.

The lights were off, but the room was bathed in the shifting blueish glow of the TV sitting on top of a chest of drawers next to one of the two windows. The flickering light revealed the sleeping form of a teenaged girl curled on top of the bed, wearing a black turtleneck and red tartan pyjama bottoms. The TV remote was nearby, and so was an open graphic novel.

_The Killing Joke_, Beckett recognised. It had always been one of her favourites.

Her younger self had hair that reached halfway down her back, with a streak of bright, artificial red running down from one temple. Beckett grinned ruefully at the memory. Her mother had been furious, and her father had been amused.

She glanced around the intimately familiar room, taking in the various items pinned to the walls – a candid group shot of Bon Jovi, a British band's tour poster entitled _On Every Street_, a photo of Cindy Crawford smoking a cigarette, and even a dramatic, shadowed rendering of the Hal Jordan-era _Green Lantern_ – and she shook her head in wonder.

She felt a tap on her shoulder, and she reluctantly stepped back through the solid door and into the hallway.

"_This way,_" Royce said, then he walked down to the end of the corridor, again stopping in front of a door. Her parents' room.

She felt conflicting emotions rise up within her. Trepidation, sadness, curiosity, and a wave of disorientation at the idea of being able to discover something new about a time that was long gone; to see a moment she hadn't experienced, whilst her younger self slept just a few doors away.

Royce stepped wordlessly through the door, and she followed.

The master bedroom was decorated in warm, light shades – delicate blues and yellows. There was a half-height bookshelf beside Johanna's dressing table, and the door to the en suite bathroom was ajar. There was light within, and Beckett could hear the sound of running water.

The bedroom was a cosy space, and the mingled scent of her mother's perfume and her father's aftershave hit her like a physical blow.

Johanna Beckett sat in bed reading a sheaf of papers. They looked like legal documents of some kind, and periodically she would make a note in a spiral-bound notebook that sat atop the duvet.

After a few moments, Jim Beckett stepped out of the en suite, switching off the bathroom light. He stopped in the doorway, looking at his wife with an expression of mixed admiration and apprehension.

It was almost half a minute before Johanna looked up distractedly, and smiled at him before returning her attention to the documents she held.

Beckett frowned, looking first at her father and then at her mother, and finally over towards Royce.

"Is that…?"

Royce nodded.

_The Pulgatti case. The case that killed her._

Jim Beckett sighed, then walked over to his side of the bed. He sat down, turning to look at his wife, and again she looked up at him.

"Jim…" she began, but he looked at her earnestly and then it was her turn to sigh.

"I'm worried, Jo," he said. "All this… it's dangerous. Police officers and blackmail. Maybe some things are better left alone."

Johanna's eyes became fierce, glittering in the soft light. She opened her mouth to respond, but Jim held up his hand.

"I know," he said. "The truth matters. And you know I believe it. But this man, he was a mobster – and there are powerful people involved. That's all I'm saying. There are other things to consider besides the truth."

His tone was even and reasonable, but his voice was sad, as if he already knew that his appeal was a lost cause.

"Don't you dare ask me to choose between my family and my–"

"Crusade?" Jim interjected, and Johanna's expression darkened. She glanced in the direction of her daughter's room without even realising she'd done it, and she set the papers down beside her notepad. Beckett winced, recognising her mother's expression as one that she herself often wore.

"Everyone deserves justice, Jim," Johanna said warningly, folding her arms.

Jim stared at his wife for a long moment, then his face softened. He reached out towards her, and after a tense couple of seconds, she unfolded her arms again and took his hand.

"You know I admire the hell out of what you do. It's one of the reasons I love you," he said.

She sighed softly, looking down at her lap for a moment before meeting his gaze again.

"It just scares me," he continued. "The idea that something could happen to you."

Beckett again felt tears rolling down her cheeks.

She moved so she could fully see her father's face, and her heart clenched at the shadow of the man he would become. The lines of tension across his forehead, and a glimpse of the haunted look that would later be his most common expression.

"I love you so much," he said, his voice catching as he reached his other hand up to caress his wife's face.

"Oh, Jim," Johanna replied, leaning into his embrace and wrapping her arms around his neck. "I love you and Katie more than anything in the world. And you know I'm being as careful as I can. This is _so_ important."

Jim Beckett just nodded, angling his face into his wife's neck. "I know," he whispered.

Beckett watched as her father glanced up towards the ceiling and muttered a silent prayer, and her heart broke for him all over again.

She swiped away fresh tears, turning to Royce with a look of abject grief on her face. The ghost stood sombrely just inside the doorway, his ever-changing eyes conveying both sadness and also the burden of some sort of knowledge she could only guess at.

"Please just take me home, Mike," she said, and her voice could have been that of the girl in the room down the hall.

"_Soon,_" he said. "_One more stop._"

"I don't know what you're trying to tell me with all this!" she cried, her hands clenching into weak fists and then releasing again.

"_I know,_" Royce replied. "_But you will. I hope. Come on._"

He stepped backwards through the bedroom door into the hallway, and she took a last long look at her parents who were still embracing on the bed, their argument forgotten. Jim had pulled back slightly to look into his wife's eyes, and he lifted a hand to brush away a stray lock of her hair.

"I need you with me on this," Johanna said softly. "Nothing's more important to me than you and our daughter."

"We're here," Jim replied. "Always."

Beckett's eyes widened, and she drew in a sharp breath.

"_Time to go, kid,_" came Royce's voice from nearby, and at last she reluctantly turned away and stepped noiselessly from the room.

Royce stood at the far end of the hallway, beside a section of wall where a family portrait usually hung. Now, though, there was only a rectangle of light stretching from the floor almost all the way to the ceiling, it's glow bathing the walls and floor around it in an eerie, shimmering glow.

"_After you,_" Royce said, and Beckett nodded. She walked slowly towards the latest of these strange doorways through the past, and as she reached it, she thought she could smell the distinctive scent of lilies.

She looked at Royce, but the ghost only stared back at her. There was concern on his face, but also compassion.

She steeled herself, and stepped into the void.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Author's note: Another two chapters in a single evening. This one was emotional to write.**_

_**I wish I could say I'd realised before starting just how well Beckett fits into Dickens' story, but the truth is that this began as an experiment with how people feel loneliness more at this time of year. I wrote the first chapter without having any idea what was going to happen. Then Johanna showed up, and I realised that I was writing A Christmas Carol (A Christmas Castle?), and the story evolved naturally from there.**_

_**I do, however, know where it's going. Two ghosts remain, and it's not long until Christmas...**_

* * *

_No._

_Not this._

_Anything but this._

Beckett spun around, coming face to face with Royce, and she tried to push past him but there was nowhere to go. Only floor-to-ceiling polished mahogany panels. The portal was gone.

"You can't make me see this again," she whispered, and Royce put a comforting but firm hand on her shoulder.

The smell of lilies filled the room, overpowering even the dozens of perfumes and aftershaves. She squeezed her eyes shut only a moment before she heard her father's voice.

"Johanna was a beloved wife and mother. She was my whole life."

His voice cracked.

Beckett shuddered, but she forced herself to turn around and open her eyes.

Her father stood at the podium in front of the closed casket, wearing a black suit. He was clean shaven, but a couple of tufts of his hair were out of place, as if he'd held his head in his hands recently. His eyes were glassy, and he looked like an old man.

The mourners watched him from their pews, the men's jaws set too firm, and the women's mascara already running. In the front row, flanked by a graven-faced aunt and a neighbour who had been one of Johanna's best friends, sat the young woman who would now recognisably become Kate Beckett.

Her cheekbones were sharp, her eyes were liquid shadows, and her hair was scraped fiercely back. Tears coasted freely down her cheeks and her chin quivered, but her eyes flashed with rage and loss. There was a terrible, broken majesty about her.

Beckett looked down at herself from her place at the side of the podium beside Royce, and she saw the intensity that had burned in her eyes that day. The fury, and the resolve. She could almost watch the bricks falling into place, row by row, slowly but surely. Her shield being assembled.

_This is where I built the wall_.

"_Anybody would have,_" Royce murmured. "_Anybody strong enough._"

She was about to reply, but her father began to speak again.

"Everybody who knew Jo would tell you how special she was. She was a force of nature, and she believed in doing what was right."

Heads nodded in the crowd. A woman's sob was heard from somewhere towards the back.

"We were so lucky to have her in our lives. There was nobody and nothing she loved more than our beautiful daughter Katie."

Beckett's hands were shaking, and tears now slipped constantly from the corners of her eyes. Her younger self had her hands clasped together so tightly that her knuckles were visibly white, but she didn't make a sound.

Royce tightened his grip on her shoulder, but she shook it off and stepped forward towards her father. For a moment, she smelled the acrid but syrupy odour of bourbon, and her stomach clenched.

_So many nights. So many days too, towards the end of it all._

"Jo lived her life like every day mattered, and she made sure we all knew how important we were to her."

Beckett drew level with the casket, and she had a brief and irrational urge to lean over, letting her face pass through the top of it, to look upon her mother's face one final time. She shuddered and shrugged off the macabre impulse.

"Right now she'd be telling me to get to the point," Jim said, drawing some pained laughter from the long and echoing chamber around them.

"What happened to Jo was senseless and cruel, but she wouldn't want us to focus on how her life ended. She'd want us to remember how she lived it."

Again his voice cracked, and Beckett instinctively reached out towards him. Her hand passed straight through his elbow, and he glanced briefly down at the lectern.

"She believed in justice, and in the basic goodness of people. She believed in the difference between right and wrong, and the importance of fighting for the truth."

The young Kate Beckett's eyes blazed, and she swallowed.

"But most of all, when she came home at night, or even took the occasional day off" – more subdued laughter, more nodding, and more tears – "she knew that nothing is more important than how we live our lives."

He paused, clearly gathering his last reserves of strength. His face was grey, and his suit seemed a size too big.

Royce stepped forward silently to stand by Beckett's side.

"I loved her, and I'll always love her," – another crack in his voice, and finally a bright tear rolling down a sunken cheek – "and I'll always treasure every moment we had together."

Another pause.

"She gave me our wonderful daughter, who she loved so very much, and she made sure we knew how important we were to her."

The young Beckett's head bowed, still silent, and the elder Beckett's vision now blurred into a kaleidoscope of images. Her father's voice wavered.

"She taught me what it means to love someone, and to be loved in return. That's the most precious gift anyone can receive. I know that's what she'd want to be remembered for."

Beckett slowly crouched down on the plush dark-blue carpet beside the casket, wrapping her arms around herself as she sobbed.

A man stood up from the second row of pews and joined Jim Beckett, then put an arm around his shoulders and lead him back down, both men's faces ashen.

A reverend took the podium now and said a few words in a hushed tone, and then the first strains of _Amazing Grace_ began to echo around the room. The mourners rose as one, clutching identical booklets, and began to sing.

Beckett felt Royce's hand on her shoulder again. When he spoke, his quiet voice was somehow still perfectly audible over the hymn.

"_Time to go home now,_" he said. "_I'm sorry, kid, for what it's worth._"

She sniffed, swiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater, and she got to her feet only with significant effort.

There was a large set of double doors at the rear of the chamber, closed, and suddenly their edges blazed with white light.

Royce led her down the steps, past her father and herself, and along the central aisle between dozens of black suits and dresses. Their singing filled the air, and she felt like she was saying goodbye to her mother all over again. Her step faltered, and Royce caught her arm, helping her along.

She reached the doors, and Royce pulled both of them inwards, revealing a wall of shimmering, silver-white luminescence.

"After you?" she asked, her voice still watery, and she was surprised when Royce shook his head.

"_My time's up,_" he said. "_I've got a different train to catch._"

She looked at him and then at the portal just in front of them, and she felt a spindle of fear chasing up her spine.

"But–"

"_It's OK,_" Royce replied. "_This was a one-night-only appearance for me._"

"Are you… I mean," she stammered, looking around the room again as the singing continued. "Is this… is it real?"

"_What do you think?_" Royce asked, putting his hands in his pockets.

She gave an enormous, shuddering sigh, and ran a hand through her hair. "I… don't know what to think anymore."

Royce contemplated her for a long moment, his eyes shifting more quickly now – green, brown, blue, grey, hazel, and back again.

"_That's a start,_" he said simply, then he pointed to the void of light.

She nodded, then she reached out towards him, placing a hand on his chest.

"Thank you," she said, and he only tilted his head in acknowledgement.

She took a breath, and with one last look at him, she turned and began to walk into the light. She heard his voice behind her, as if from a great distance.

"_Oh, and kid? Mind that first step._"

Her foot met only thin air, and she tumbled forward into the white void. Her arms whipped out, but there was nothing to hold onto. She screamed.

And then she fell.

* * *

Beckett's whole body tensed as her back struck the surface, and she froze, waiting for the wave of pain from the impact – but it never arrived.

She opened her eyes to the familiar surroundings of her apartment. She was lying on her couch.

She sprang up, hurrying across to the countertop near the entranceway, and found her badge and gun sitting exactly where she'd left them. She picked up the gun, unsure what she planned to do with it, then she set it down again. Her pulse was slowly returning to normal, but was still elevated.

The clock on the wall ticked quietly, and she glanced up at it.

_Two minutes past midnight._

She crept across to the door that led to her bedroom, and saw that it was still ajar. She pushed it open, and saw only the room as it always was.

"Royce?" she said, wincing at the sound of her own voice. There was no reply except the ticking of the clock.

She exhaled loudly, then bit her lower lip as she looked carefully around the shadowy open living area. Then she saw the wine glass sitting on the windowsill, just where she'd left it after–

_After he told me to finish my drink_, she thought, her arms crawling with goosebumps.

"Definitely didn't happen," she said, but her voice sounded small and afraid.

The sudden shrill sound make her cry out in fright, raising her hands in the air in front of her.

_Phone_, her mind said even as her heart hammered in her chest. _Just the phone._

She quickly crossed to the dining table and picked up her iPhone, seeing that the notification banner hadn't yet faded from the screen. The green icon indicated a text message, and the sender's name was a single word: _Castle._

She swiped the screen to unlock the device, and pulled up the message.

_**It's after midnight, detective. Eleven days to go!**_

The ticking of the clock seemed louder now, and the shadowy corners of her empty apartment seemed to be filled with little stealthy sounds.

She considered calling him, then she clenched her fist.

"I'm stronger than this," she said defiantly, slipping the phone into her pocket and picking up her gun holster to take with her to the bedroom.

_You're missing the point_, her mind answered in Royce's voice, and she shivered.

"Maybe," she whispered, but this time there was no reply.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Author's note: My wife was getting anxious to know what happened to Beckett after her strange experience with Royce. I've been busy, but I'm keen to see this story through. Just a brief installment to ease back in.**_

* * *

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

The breeze was freezing, but she welcomed it.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

There was nothing but the sound of her sneakers hitting the asphalt. Beckett didn't even notice the traffic noise, or the throngs of people milling along the sidewalks – her only focus was the ground beneath her feet as she ran.

She woke up early, disoriented and with an elevated pulse. Her rapidly-fading dreams were full of her mother's face, ticking clocks, and doorways that opened into a white void. By the time she'd splashed several handfuls of cold water onto her face in front of the bathroom mirror, her hands had almost stopped shaking.

The coffee machine was burbling away when the sudden noise from behind her made her yelp out loud, spinning around with her eyes darting frantically around the whole open plan area. It took almost five minutes for her to realise it had been the sound of the morning paper colliding with the outside of her door.

When she felt the first tear roll down from the corner of her eye, she abandoned her breakfast plans and pulled on her running gear. The sun was already up, and she needed to get out of her apartment. And so she ran.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

It had been almost fifty minutes, and her heart was pounding healthily in her chest. Her cheeks were flushed, and her brow was sheened with sweat. She felt utterly alive.

Finally, her apartment building came into view, and she slowed her pace until she eventually came to a stop just outside the main entrance.

She glanced around the busy street. _Saturday morning in New York_.

Three minutes later she was once again inside her apartment, stripping off her running gear on her way to the shower. The warm water was blissful against her skin.

Her mind drifted to the dream again – because it was certainly just a dream. She had no room in her world-view for any other possibility.

_But it was so real_, she thought, with a shiver despite the heat of the steam and water.

_You need to understand_, her mind whispered in Royce's voice, and her eyes snapped open. Same old bathroom. Nothing unusual.

"What I need is a vacation," she muttered, but her defiance did little to quell the lingering sense of strangeness and unease that she felt.

She closed her eyes again, letting the water soothe her tense muscles and wash away the grime of the city. By daylight, in the mostly sane waking world, standing in her own shower, she thought it would be easy to dismiss the _experience_ as the product of an overly tired and stressed mind, but her nerves were still jangling.

_Castle would have a field day with this_, her mind remarked, and she felt her heart skip a beat.

The scene in her parents' bedroom was too familiar for comfort. The argument between her father and mother. Him admiring her strength, but worrying about the risks of her work.

_Then there's that word again: always._

She leaned her head against the cool tiles, feeling the stream of water hit the middle of her back.

Castle was in love with her. She knew that already. He had been for quite a while now, and she also knew that he'd dive headfirst into a relationship with her, given the chance.

She shivered despite the heat and humidity. All she would have to do was… what?

_Kiss him? Done that already._

She frowned, even as her pulse increased slightly. It just wasn't that simple. It couldn't be, because she had baggage. She had a purpose in life, and a duty. A responsibility.

_A ponderous chain_, her mind whispered, this time in her mother's voice.

Beckett lifted her heard from the tiles, ran her fingers through her hair to brush out the last of the shampoo, then switched the water off with a sigh.

She stepped out of the shower and quickly towelled herself dry before wrapping the towel around herself.

Her gaze flicked towards the large mirror above the sink, but it was fogged. The woman she glimpsed within was just a vague shape clad in white.

She reached out towards the glass, then her hand paused in mid air.

Stephanie. That's what she'd been thinking about before–

"Before I fell asleep on the couch," she said, cringing at the sound of her own voice bouncing off the hard surfaces of the bathroom.

Had he called her? He said he wasn't planning to.

_Then I said he should invite her over for Christmas dinner_, she thought, and her mouth twisted in disgust at herself.

"And I know what you're going to say, mom – and Royce," she muttered sarcastically to the empty room. "He won't wait forever."

The sudden sound behind her made her flinch, and she spun around.

Large drops of water fell from the shower head, splattering noisily against the metal drain.

_Tick, tock._

_Tick, tock._

She stood there motionless for a long moment, then turned and opened the bathroom door, stepping out into her bedroom. She left the lights on behind her.

* * *

Castle was deep in the zone, fingers dancing over the keyboard and tongue poking out of the right side of his mouth.

A half-finished mug of coffee stood forgotten nearby, his entire focus on the glowing screen of the sleek Apple laptop in front of him.

"Rook turned towards her, with the barest trace of an amused grin on his lips," he mumbled to himself, unaware that he had deepened his voice and was mimicking the grin.

"Heat raised an eyebrow, then she slowly lifted her hand and–"

Castle recoiled as the surface of his desk buzzed loudly, then a moment later he heard the text message tone from his iPhone.

"Son of a…" he said darkly, reaching for the device even as he took a breath to calm his pulse. The notification said _Beckett_, and he smiled.

_Never was a man so happy about homicide_, he thought, as he swiped the screen to read the message.

_**Are you busy? I was thinking of going out for lunch in a bit.**_

His eyebrows shot up. This was unusual, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He quickly tapped out a reply and sent it.

_**Meet you at your place in 20.**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Author's note: I love these two, but they're infuriating at times. Castle's cautiousness and willingness to wait, and Beckett's reluctance and mistaken belief that she can't have her quest and also her own life. Thankfully there are other forces at work this time, and they've set a strict deadline.**_

* * *

"Hey," Beckett said, as Castle got out of the taxi in front of her building. She was already waiting outside, hands thrust into her pockets against the chill.

"Hi," he replied, giving her a brief smile as he examined her expression carefully.

"What?" she asked after a moment, her brow furrowing in suspicion, but he only shrugged.

"I wasn't expecting to hear from you today. Not that I'm not glad to hear from you – I am. It's just… a little unusual."

She tilted her head slightly, which only further piqued his curiosity.

"Everything alright? With you, I mean?" he asked, and she considered the question for a moment.

_Not really_, she thought. _I'm having dreams about my mother, and my former partner – both of whom are dead. And I'm feeling weird lately. And it's Christmas._

"I'm fine," she said, daring him to argue.

"OK," he replied. He knew not to push her. "So, any thoughts on where you want to eat?"

"I know a place," she said, nodding in the direction of the nearby intersection, and they both began to walk.

"Up to much this morning?" she asked, and he smiled.

"Been up writing since before seven. I'm really getting through it. Rook is… well, you'll see when it's out. But it's _good_."

She grinned. "I bet. I'll try to contain my curiosity for now."

He shot her a look, then happily began telling her about how he'd bought a whole set of matching accessories for Alexis's new scooter.

She walked along by his side, content to listen to him talking about his daughter. They drew up to another intersection, and Castle showed no sign of stopping, entirely caught up in what he was telling her.

Beckett saw the large van out of the corner of her eye.

Castle was about to step from the edge of the sidewalk when she grabbed his elbow, making him stop and look around at her in surprise. The van blasted past just a couple of feet in front of him, and he paled.

"Oh, yikes. Thanks," he said.

She shook her head at him, exasperating masking the momentary feeling of ice in her belly, then looked down the street at the rapidly disappearing vehicle.

_Jumbo Removals_, the painted livery on its shutter tailgate said, in bright yellow writing against a deep blue background. There was a picture of a cartoon elephant wearing a workman's cap and overalls, holding a cardboard box and winking.

_Coincidence_, she thought, but she unconsciously tightened her grip on Castle's arm.

"Get the license plate?" he asked, with humour in his voice, and she looked around at him again, raising an eyebrow.

"You shouldn't be allowed out on your own," she replied, and she knew roughly what he was going to say before he spoke.

"Why Detective Beckett, is that an offer to accompany me around town more often?"

She rolled her eyes, but managed to resist the temptation to jab a finger into his ribs.

His teasing grin faltered after a couple of seconds when she hadn't yet broken eye contact or released his elbow, and again she heard a church bell tolling somewhere in the distance.

"Maybe I should, Castle, if I ever want to read that new book," she said, and he smirked.

The crossing signal changed to WALK, and the small crowd of fellow pedestrians around them moved off. Beckett paused for only a moment before making her decision, then released his elbow and instead looped her arm through his, tugging him onwards.

It took him a moment to get his footing, and she could see in her peripheral vision that his mouth opened and then closed again, but he didn't say anything.

* * *

The cafe was blissfully warm, its windows fogged with condensation. They were seated not far from the counter, and there were already two coffees in front of them.

Castle picked up his mug and held it in both hands, letting the steam drift up in front of his eyes. He watched her across the table.

_What's going on with you today_?

It had taken another ten minutes or so to reach the cafe, and Beckett's arm had been linked with his the whole way. He'd been stunned at first, expecting her to let go as soon as they stepped back onto the sidewalk after crossing the intersection, but if anything she'd just slightly tightened her grip.

He'd tried to enjoy it, he really had, but his first instinct was to worry about her, and what might have happened. Kate Beckett did _not_ do public displays of affection, and she refused to ever show any vulnerability, or leave herself open to teasing. She was fiercely protective of her tough and no-nonsense image. The more he thought about it, the more concerned he became.

She did finally release his arm when they reached the cafe, letting him open and hold the door for her as usual, and he was dismayed at how much he instantly missed the contact.

_Don't go there, Rick_, he cautioned himself, pushing the emotion away. They'd been seated right away, and the coffees arrived quickly.

Now he used the veil of the steam to surreptitiously observe her. She was looking down at her own coffee mug, elbow on the table and her chin resting on the heel of her palm. Her long lashes were exquisitely outlined against her cheeks, which were still flushed a delicate pink from the cold air outside. Every so often, her nose would twitch as the aroma of the coffee reached her. She was lost in thought, and for a moment, a wistful smile played across her lips.

She was beautiful.

He felt the familiar surge of emotion in his chest. The longing, the loneliness despite her proximity, the instinctive need to protect her – mostly from herself. The desire to hold her that was so strong in moments like this that it became an almost physical ache.

_Maybe next year will be the one_, he told himself, not believing it but needing to hope. The worst part was that, looking at her now with the light reflecting from her auburn curls in a hundred places and the contrast of her purple woollen scarf against the smooth, pale skin of her neck, he knew that he'd probably wait for the rest of his life. Until hope finally gave way to despair, and every possible tomorrow was only a withered regret of a yesterday that had never come.

Beckett felt his eyes on her, and she glanced up. The look on his face, just for a moment before he carefully schooled his expression and averted his gaze, made her breath catch in her throat.

His eyes crinkled gently at the outside corners, and he wore an easy smile that he probably wasn't even aware of. His lips were slightly parted and his head tilted just a little to the left, as if he couldn't quite comprehend what he was seeing. His eyes were a vivid blue, open and clear, pupils dilated despite the brightness of the cafe. She knew that he was aware of nothing but her. It was a look she had seen often during this past year, in his unguarded moments, and it was always for her. The kind of look that a man wore when he was making a vow.

There could be absolutely no question that he was in love with her.

And then he looked away, caught, knowing that he wasn't allowed to show her that particular truth. That she didn't allow him to. Back to the holding pattern, keeping everything inside as the weeks ticked by.

Castle drummed his fingers nervously against the cheerfully bright tablecloth.

_Tick, tock._

_Tick, tock._

She felt the familiar sense of panic rising up inside her – too soon, too much, just another person to someday lose – but this time there was a different quality to it.

_It can all be over in a moment_, her mother's voice echoed in her mind, and she thought again of the van that sped by earlier. So many second chances, but none of them taken.

She watched him as he took a noisy gulp of coffee, the crease in his brow barely noticeable but definitely there, and she suddenly knew that he was angry with himself.

_Because now I'll push him away again_.

She turned her head to look across the cafe towards the big windows that looked out onto the street, and she saw the man standing there. He was right outside the glass, looking in with wild eyes. His hair was matted and sticking out in all directions, and his clothes were filthy. He had an unkempt beard, and a cut running down one cheek.

He held a roughly-torn square of cardboard, and she read the hand-lettered sign that filled its surface.

_TIME IS RUNNING OUT!_

The man seemed to be looking straight at her, but then his eyes flicked to another of the cafe's customers, then another, and finally he stepped back from the window, looked aimlessly around, then moved off out of sight.

"Wouldn't be surprised if Gina sent him," Castle said, and Beckett looked around at him and actually laughed. Trust Castle to always break the tension.

He grinned, delighted at her response, then after a moment he sighed.

"You know – and I'm not prying – if you want to talk about… whatever it is, then I'm here. Anytime."

She looked down at the tablecloth for a moment then met his gaze again, and nodded.

"Doesn't have to be today," he said. "Not even this afternoon. In this cafe. Starting… now?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, and he held his hands up in defeat. "OK, I didn't think so. But I mean it, Kate."

Her stomach fluttered at his use of her first name, and again she wondered what in the _hell_ she was doing, sitting here across from this man and pretending that everything was alright.

"I know," she said quietly, wrapping both hands around the coffee mug before briefly making eye contact again. "And I appreciate it."

A pause, that stretched out fifteen seconds or more.

"I just…" she began, and then she sighed and shook her head.

_Tick, tock._

She removed her hands from the mug, placing them flat against the tablecloth, then she looked up at him again. She pursed her lips for a moment before speaking.

"Castle, have you ever–"

"Sorry about the wait, folks. Now, what can I get for you?"

The waitress appeared out of nowhere, and neither of them spoke for a couple of seconds. Castle saw a flash of trepidation appear on the girl's face, and he smiled reassuringly at her.

"Are we ready to order?" he asked, looking across at Beckett, and they both knew there were at least two questions there.

Beckett tucked a strand of hair behind her ear self-consciously, picking up her menu, then she flashed the waitress a quick smile and nodded.

_Where were you this time, Royce?_ Beckett's mind whispered sarcastically as she quickly scanned the dishes on the outsized laminated card.

_Damn it_, Castle thought, knowing the moment had passed.

"Ladies first," he said.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Author's note: Thanks so much for the kind words in your reviews. They mean a lot to me.**_

* * *

The breeze was harsh but pleasant after the almost hypnotic warmth of the cafe. Beckett tugged her scarf tighter around her neck, thrusting her hands into her coat pockets.

She looked back over her shoulder to see Castle holding the door open for a young mother with a pushchair, and she smiled. No matter what the situation, he was always courteous.

_Martha definitely got that part right_, she thought, as he joined her where she stood a few feet away from the door.

The conversation had been light while they ate, and she was grateful – and perhaps ever so slightly frustrated – that Castle hadn't pushed her for an explanation of the unusual invitation to lunch during the weekend. He had insisted on paying, as always, making a smarmy remark about how it was a privilege to see her outside the precinct without her gun drawn. She had rolled her eyes, knowing he was just trying to defuse any tension.

"So… lingerie shopping?" Castle asked, with a hopeful, lopsided grin on his face, and she snorted. "No? OK then, movie? Oh, I know: bookstore! Someplace with cake."

She had to admire his enthusiasm, and she couldn't help but give him a tight-lipped grin, but she shook her head.

"_You_ should get back to writing your own book," she said, easily picking up on the slight fall of his shoulders and feeling a familiar stab of guilt, "and I have some stuff to do."

"OK," he said simply, giving his best effort at a smile. "This was nice, y'know. I'd like to… do it again."

There was neither any judgement nor even a real question in his voice; he was just expressing what he was feeling, honestly and without pretext. There was something quite heartbreaking about it.

She had no idea what she'd done to deserve the devotion that he showed her, much less the patience. In fact, she knew that she'd always given him more reasons to walk away than to stay.

"I'd like that too," she said quickly, unsure whether it was the cold air that caused the tingling sensation in her cheeks.

This time, his smile was genuine.

"Walk me home?" she asked before she could think better of it, again feeling a flutter in her stomach, and his smile widened.

"Your wish is my command, Detective," Castle replied, as they started walking.

_Call me Kate_, she thought, but she just tilted her head at him in acknowledgement.

They reached an intersection after a hundred yards, and only had to wait a few moments for the lights to change. She was suddenly very aware of him at her side, and she glanced up. He was staring off down the street with a look of concentration on his face, and she knew he was thinking about his near miss earlier. She saw the barest trace of a smile on his lips for a moment, then it faded.

She acted on impulse as the WALK sign lit up opposite, once again looping her arm through his. He glanced down at her, unable to completely hide his delight.

"Remember to look both ways, Castle," she said, and they stepped off the curb together.

They arrived at her apartment building all too soon, and Castle tightened his arm against his side as their pace slowed, holding hers in place. She raised an exquisitely sculpted eyebrow at him, and he at least had the good grace to look bashful when he shrugged.

They came to a stop just a few feet from the entrance, and he sighed. She didn't immediately release his arm, instead looking around at him for a moment before speaking.

"Thanks for lunch," she said. "And… taking time out of your weekend."

He looked back at her, considering his words. Her pulse quickened when she saw that same look in his eyes again.

_Don't say it, Castle, whatever it is. Or… do._

"I think you know I've always got time for you, Kate," he said softly, and the earnestness and hint of sadness in it was suddenly almost more than she could bear. She dropped her gaze and swallowed the lump that had appeared in her throat.

After a moment, she just nodded twice in quick succession.

"Well… good luck with the writing," she said, making eye contact again, and he bowed his head in thanks.

"Good luck with _some stuff_," he replied in a gently teasing tone, making air-quotes with his free hand, and she wrinkled her nose at him before finally releasing his arm.

He looked down at the crook of his own elbow for a moment, his smile fading, then he glanced quickly towards the doors of her building before looking at her again.

"If you want to talk, call me. Or just to… hang out." He paused, looking at her thoughtfully. "The weekends can be pretty long."

He paused for another moment then nodded at her again, gave her a warm smile, then turned and walked away.

She watched him until he was out of sight, then she went inside.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, and Beckett was thankful for it. She spent the hours in a blur of housework, with music playing loudly the entire time. She steadfastly refused to think about her experience the night before, or about what the coming nightfall might bring.

She made herself a simple dinner, surfing TV channels while she ate. As she cleared up afterwards, her mind turned again to Castle.

They were in a holding pattern, and she was the one keeping them there. But it _worked_, didn't it? They solved crimes, they spent some time together outside of work, they lent their strength to each other. It wasn't everything she wanted from life, but it was uncomplicated.

Anything more would be dangerous. Castle wouldn't settle for just a casual relationship; not with her. It'd be all or nothing. And that was… unacceptable.

She paused near the couch, waiting for the feeling of tension to rise up in her chest, but it never came. She frowned, then picked up a cushion and fluffed it with a little more force than necessary.

"I've got other things to think about," she muttered, and it was true. Her job, for example. And her–

_Crusade?_ her father's voice whispered in her mind, and she shivered.

_Is that what I'm doing?_

She considered the idea, then shook her head. The two situations were only superficially alike. And besides, her mother had a family too, as well as her quest for justice.

Beckett looked around her apartment as if seeing it for the first time. It was stylish yet quirky, warm but also clearly the home of a person who was independent. And it was empty.

Running shoes where a child's rain boots might be, or a skateboard.

An acoustic guitar carefully propped on a stand, where a haphazard pile of toys might lie.

A coat rack with only women's coats hanging on it. A television without a PlayStation or Xbox below. A bathroom with a single toothbrush. The scent of perfume, but no aftershave.

No Christmas tree. No gifts hidden away, ready to be given to loved ones. Just a makeshift murder board, concealed behind shutters.

Framed photos of the past, but none of the present.

The sky was already dark outside, and the clock in the entranceway clicked as its hands indicated it was 8PM.

_Tick, tock._

She sat down on the couch, still looking around her modest home. Unbidden, an image of Castle's loft sprung into her mind. Not entirely dissimilar, but so different in character.

It had life. The movements and sounds and trappings of a family. A coat over a chair. The elegant dance of serving and then clearing away after a meal. The thump of Alexis's feet on the stairs. Castle's music from the office. Martha's arch remarks. The occasional laser tag or lightsaber battle. Family.

_Starts with two_, she thought, unsure where the idea had come from.

She took her phone out of her pocket and tapped a contact to initiate a call. It was answered after a few rings.

"_Katie?_"

"Hi, dad," she replied. "How's things?"

She could hear the smile in Jim Beckett's voice, but she also felt goosebumps on her arms as she remembered the last time she'd heard him speak.

_Imagination_, she told herself. _Just a dream._

"_All good here, sweetheart. I think I'm going to go to a meeting later. Just watching some TV. Everything OK with you?_"

"Fine," she said. "Having a quiet night. I just wanted to check in."

"_How's Rick?_"

She felt a blush rise in her cheeks, and chastised herself for being ridiculous. She was a grown woman. And Castle was her partner.

"Castle? He's fine. Probably at home. With his family."

She frowned, unsure why she'd added the last remark. There was a pause before Jim replied.

"_He's a good man._"

"I know," she replied thoughtfully, and she could practically see the almost-unnoticeable twitch in her father's eyebrows.

"_Maybe you should tell him that sometime._"

She sighed. "_Dad_," she began, but he cut her off with a dry chuckle.

"_Enough said. So why are you _really_ calling your old man on a Saturday night? You sure you're OK?_"

She paused for several seconds, unsure how to answer. Why did she call her father? When she spoke, the words seemed to form on their own.

"I was just… thinking about mom."

Another pause.

"_I see._"

"I think about her a lot at this time of year."

"_Me too._"

"You… still miss her."

They both knew it wasn't a question, but he answered anyway.

"_Every day, Katie. She'd be so proud of you. Seeing the woman you've become._"

"Would she?"

She lifted her free hand to her cheek, and wasn't surprised to feel wetness there.

"_Of course she would. You're smart, tough, you fight to make the world a better place, and you're beautiful – if I do say so myself._"

She laughed softly, knowing he could hear the liquid quality to her voice.

"I was thinking about the old apartment. The one when I was at high school. Do you remember?"

"_Like I saw it yesterday._"

A shiver ran up her spine. _I did see it yesterday._

"We were so happy there."

Another pause.

"If you could go back–"

"_But I can't, sweetheart. And there's no use wondering._"

It was a phrase her mother often used. Always look forwards; deal with what was, not what might have been. Pragmatic. Sensible.

"But if you could. Even though you couldn't change… anything."

Jim Beckett sighed, and it was several long moments before he spoke. His voice was quieter now.

"_Yes. Of course I would. All of it._"

A shorter pause, and she could hear him inhale deeply.

"_I'd go right back and I'd go through all of it again, just for one more hour with her._"

She nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Me too," she said, her voice thick with tears.

"_She'd be so pissed at us right now,_" Jim said, and then somehow they were both laughing. Sometimes it worked that way.

Sometimes, it had to.

They spoke for a few more minutes about inconsequential things, but she knew that a rarely-trodden line had been crossed, and they both needed to retreat into their own thoughts for a while. It would be several days before they spoke again. She was glad he was going to another meeting tonight.

"I should probably let you get on," she said.

"_You can always call me, you know. Whenever you want to talk._"

_That's just what Castle said_, she thought.

"_And I bet Rick would say the same._"

More goosebumps.

"I love you, dad," she said, and her heart was bursting with the truth of it.

"_Love you too, Katie. Always._"

"'Night," she said gently, her fingers tracing patterns against the fabric of the couch.

"'_Night, honey,_" Jim Beckett replied, and then he hung up.

She sighed deeply, wiping the tears from her cheeks with her sleeve, then she glanced across at the windows looking out onto the night-time cityscape.

The sudden silence was broken only by the clock.

_Tick, tock._

She reached for the TV remote, and settled in to wait until sleep called her.


	12. Chapter 12

Monday morning dawned just as bright, cold, and thankfully dry as the weekend had been.

Castle flicked through the morning paper as he sipped his orange juice absent-mindedly. It was almost 9AM and he hadn't had a call from Beckett, so there was probably no case. He planned to go into the precinct in a little while anyway, just to check up on everyone.

He hadn't heard from her since they'd parted in front of her apartment building on Saturday afternoon. He'd thought about texting or calling her several times, but something made him hold back.

_Saturday._

He still didn't know what to think about how she'd been when they went for lunch together. She'd been about to say something when the waiter interrupted them, and the moment had never been recaptured. He frowned in frustration.

"Damned unusual," he muttered to himself, and Alexis looked up from her Kindle.

"What is?" she asked, and Castle looked up at her and blinked.

"Hmm?"

The redhead smiled at him. "You just said something was _damned unusual_, dad."

"Oh," he replied. "Just… thinking about… something. Doesn't matter."

Alexis eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then decided to let the matter drop. "So are you going in today?"

He had let his gaze fall to the newspaper, but he raised his head to look at her once more.

"Yep. In a bit."

"OK. Well, hope you have a nice day."

They looked at each other for another long moment. Castle narrowed his eyes, unable to conceal a smirk.

"I'll try," he said breezily, and Alexis returned the smirk.

"Uh-huh," the girl said. "You should ask her over for Christmas dinner too."

"Maybe I will," he replied with an exaggerated shrug.

"Well, good."

"Fine."

She stuck her tongue out at him and then picked up the Kindle and went upstairs.

His mind again drifted back to two days earlier. Walking down the streets of the city with her arm in his, stealing glances at her every so often. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose were red with the chilled air, she was clearly thinking deeply about something, but her eyes were bright. She'd actually looked more relaxed than he ever saw her in the precinct.

_It felt good_, he thought. _It felt… normal._

Which was funny, because it was anything but normal. In fact, it was a first.

Perhaps some of the people passing by had thought they were a couple. Probably, even.

He smiled for just a moment, and then it faded.

"That's a long way off," he said quietly, then drained the last of the juice from the glass and put it down.

It was time to go to work.

* * *

Beckett stared at her reflection in the wide mirror above the row of sinks. There was no-one else in the women's restroom at the moment, and she had already given Ryan and Esposito something to do out in the bullpen.

She moved a few errant locks of hair back into place, quickly checking her make-up and smoothing her blouse. He would be in soon, of course. Two coffees, and probably a couple of bear-claws.

_Sustenance_, she thought, but she didn't smile.

The dream she'd had the other night had faded a little, but she still found it disturbing. And then there were the signs.

_They're not signs_._ They're coincidences. It's just a big city._

She had walked into work this morning, after getting up early. She'd seen the homeless man again, with his sign about time running out. He'd looked straight at her from across an intersection, shaking the sign.

Then there was the travel agency's window display: _Be with your loved ones this Christmas_.

The city bus with an ad along the side for a circus that was in town, its logo held aloft by three elephants, unsettlingly similar to the ones on her desk.

The couple arm in arm half a block ahead of her, looking uncannily like herself and Castle, who had vanished by the time she reached the next junction.

The distant chiming of church bells, not always at recognisable times.

_Coincidence. Or burnout. Or… I don't know._

She'd felt both tired and wired ever since she had the strange dream, and the feeling never went away. She frowned, realising that wasn't actually true: it had gone away once, for a merciful hour or two.

_When I had lunch with him_.

She sighed, staring at her own reflection.

"Why can't you just…?" she whispered to the woman in the mirror, but she never finished the thought. She glanced at her wristwatch and realised she'd been in the restroom for almost ten minutes.

_Tick,_

"Tock, I know," she muttered, then she turned and left.

Castle was sitting in his chair beside her desk, and there was a cardboard tray with two takeout coffee cups and a paper bag on her desk. She could see him from across the bullpen, and she felt something lighten inside her. She crossed the remaining distance quickly.

"Morning," she said, and he looked up with his usual smile.

"Detective," he replied. His eyes were their most vivid blue this morning, and as always he was immaculately groomed and tailored. He looked well rested and happy, though a slight shadow passed across his face for just a moment as his eyes flicked down to her hand and then back up again. He gestured to the items on her desk.

"As always, I brought your–"

"Sustenance," she interjected, and his smile transformed into a smug grin.

He didn't reply, but he reached over to take her cup from the tray, and handed it to her once she sat down.

"Thanks, Castle," she said, lifting the cup halfway to her mouth and then pausing. He flicked his eyes at her briefly in acknowledgment, then returned his attention to his own coffee. It was the action of a man who expected nothing but cursory thanks for an service he had long since taken on as his duty.

_I take it for granted_, she thought. _I was taking it for granted just a few minutes ago. I knew he'd be here, without fail_.

She let her gaze fall to the coffee cup in her hand, and she felt the weight of it. Not the physical mass of its contents, but the significance of this ritual. Every work day, in the morning, after he'd stood in line to fetch it for her. Like a reassuring squeeze of a hand, or a whispered word of affection.

_That's what this is for him. And I say thanks, and move on._

"Castle," she said, lowering her cup slightly. He looked up, eyes clear and attentive, ready to hear whatever she had to offer him.

And she had no idea what to say.

The moment stretched out, until a question appeared on his face, and she took a breath.

"What I mean is… _thank you_," she said, willing him to understand.

He nodded slowly, clearly confused.

"For the coffee," she added, with a line of tension in her jaw. Her eyes were dark and wide, and he was reminded of how she'd looked for a moment in the cafe. "Not just today."

Her emotions were close to the surface. He was only a foot or so away, and she could smell his aftershave and his shampoo, and the unique scent that was just him.

"Thank you for–"

"Always," he said.

Her heart thudded in her chest. She had no idea whether he was finishing her statement for her, or responding, or both. But it fit. So she simply nodded.

They looked at each other for another moment before she broke eye contact.

"Are you sure you're OK?" he asked, his voice just barely loud enough for her to hear, and she took a deep breath.

"I've–"

_Been seeing – dreaming __– things._

_Been on a crusade._

_Been forging my chain._

"–just not been sleeping well."

He nodded sympathetically, remaining silent for several seconds as he mulled over this new piece of information.

"I could get mother to call you and tell you all about her theatre career."

She smiled, widely enough to show her teeth this time, but she still didn't look up at him. Again, something lightened inside her – or perhaps loosened.

_You can always seem to do that_, she thought.

Castle watched her face carefully, pleased to see the smile but knowing she wasn't telling him the whole story. He made up his mind in a moment, and quickly glanced around the bullpen before reaching out and putting his free hand on top of hers.

She looked up, her gaze darting all around to make sure no-one had seen it, but she didn't pull away. She felt him squeeze her hand, just once, and then he lifted his away again.

"Believe it or not, I can be a good listener," he said, then he shrugged and took a gulp of his coffee.

She looked at him, battling with two different emotions, each as intense as the other. Irritation at what he'd done, right there in front of the whole precinct, and intense gratitude that he'd done it.

_Like a reassuring squeeze of a hand_. She'd thought that just a few minutes ago, hadn't she?

She opened her mouth to speak, but she never had the chance.

Ryan appeared at the other side of her desk, holding his notebook in one hand and pointing back over his shoulder using his pen in the other. Esposito was only a step behind him.

Beckett sat back slightly in her chair, putting a little more distance between herself and Castle.

"Just had a call; we've got a homicide at a comic book store about twenty blocks away. Lanie's on her way there now."

Beckett nodded and took a swig of her coffee, before standing up and picking up her jacket and the paper bag. She threw a quick look in Castle's direction, her face once again wearing its usual mask of unflappable strength and efficient determination.

"Looks like we've got work to do," she said, then she turned and began walking towards Gates's office.

Castle sighed silently, setting his cup down on the table as he stood up.

"You've got that right," he said under his breath, and picked up his coat.


	13. Chapter 13

_**Author's note: Goodnight from the UK, where midnight is minutes away.**_

_**But first, a 13th chapter. I hope you're not superstitious.**_

* * *

The case was going nowhere. It was now Thursday, and the strain was beginning to show.

_Six days til Christmas,_ Castle thought, unable to summon up any enthusiasm at the moment. He glanced over at the clock on the wall beside one of the interrogation rooms, and saw that it was nearly 6PM.

"This case is killing me," he said.

"You and me both, bro," Esposito said from his desk, where he was massaging the back of his own neck.

"I have to split soon," Ryan said, checking his wristwatch, and Esposito shot his partner a glare.

"So you keep saying."

The other man looked up apologetically, and Castle gave a tired smile at their bickering before half-turning to look towards Beckett's desk.

She was still there, staring fruitlessly at document after document. They'd had a promising set of leads on Tuesday morning, but none had panned out. They were utterly stuck, and everyone had been putting in unhealthy hours without any progress.

Beckett wilfully ignored the tension headache that had been building for more than an hour now.

_Were the lights always so bright in here?_ she wondered, and she reached for her coffee cup before remembering that it was empty. She considered going to make a fresh one, but she knew it was a bad idea.

She groaned to herself, biting her thumbnail. There _had_ to be something they were missing. Or someone who saw something. Any lead would do, just to get some momentum back.

She rotated her shoulders, trying to ease the stiffness in them, then she glanced over towards the murder board. Castle was there, looking back at her with an expression of compassion. She dropped her gaze immediately.

Castle came over and sat down in his chair a few minutes later, remaining silent. He clasped his hands and pressed them against his chin, deep in thought. After another half minute or so, he spoke.

"Maybe we should–"

"_No_," she said sharply. "We're just missing something. It's here. I'm not leaving yet."

He nodded in resignation. He'd known what she would say.

There was a tense silence, and she was about to turn to him and apologise for her tone when they both heard Ryan happily call out "Hey!" from the other side of the bullpen.

Jenny stood at the head of the corridor that led to the elevator, smiling at the approaching detective. Ryan reached her and drew her into his arms, and she embraced him.

Castle and Beckett watched the couple from where they sat. Ryan was whispering something to Jenny that made her laugh, swatting at his shoulder as she blushed. Then he reached up to cradle her cheek, and tenderly kissed her.

Esposito made an exaggerating retching sound from nearby, and Jenny threw him an amused look. "Hi, Javi," she said, and he grinned and snapped off a smart salute.

"You two need to get a room," Esposito said, and Ryan seemed to consider the statement for a moment before shrugging and turning to face Jenny again.

"Don't have to tell me twice," he said, and Jenny's eyes sparkled.

The couple waved to Castle and Beckett before heading off towards the elevator, and Beckett avoided making eye contact with Castle, instead focusing again on her computer screen.

"They're great together," Castle said quietly, and she nodded.

"They've got the real thing," he added, and the wistfulness in his voice made her glance up. He wasn't looking at her, instead still gazing off in the direction that Ryan and Jenny had gone. "One day I hope I'll…"

He gave that sad smile again, just for a moment, then shook his head and stood up. "Bathroom break," he said, then took a step away from the desk.

"You had that with… Meredith, and Gina," she said. She had no idea she was going to say it, and she cringed before making herself look up at him. His expression was unreadable. It was several seconds before he spoke.

"There were times when I thought I did," he replied, his voice low and hollow. "But… no. I don't – no. I don't think I ever really did."

He seemed to consider his statement for a moment, then he nodded, as if agreeing with himself. After another moment, he walked away.

Her eyes tracked him until he disappeared around the corner.

_Oh god_, she thought.

* * *

_Tick, tock._

Beckett's elbows cracked loudly as she stretched her arms out to her sides, stifling an enormous yawn.

_Got to go home soon_, she thought.

The bullpen was almost empty, and it was nearly midnight. Esposito had finally gone home an hour before, and Castle had left at the same time. Martha was leaving town for four days to visit her sister, and Castle wanted to drive her to the airport in the morning, so he needed to get some rest.

Despite both men's strenuous appeals, Beckett had insisted on staying just a little longer. She was now almost ready to admit that she wasn't going to make any progress tonight.

"Enough," she muttered to herself, locking her computer screen and pushing herself out of her chair.

She picked up her coat, pulled it on, and trudged across to the murder board.

_Still nothing. Damn it._

She turned away in disgust and was just about to head for the elevator when she saw the staircase leading up from the ancillary corridor to the storage level above. She scratched her ear, and then shrugged.

Most of the small rooms on the upper level were used for records storage and kept reasonably tidy, but there were a few that had fallen out of use. Old furniture and other office equipment was piled indiscriminately in those rooms, and several of the detectives used them as makeshift quiet rooms to do some thinking, or get in a game of cards during lunch.

There was one particular room, at the end of the upper corridor, that she favoured.

It had a battered old metal filing cabinet, two swivel chairs – one with a broken base – and no fewer than six small, round trashcans stacked one inside the other. The walls were stained and mostly bare, except for a poster advising long-retired detectives about hygiene at water fountains.

Most importantly, though, it had a window.

The large, plate-glass window was at least six feet wide, and split into two panes vertically. It looked out over the nearby rooftops, and it gave her a place to think. She always closed the door when she left, in the hope that it would remain undisturbed, almost like it was hers alone.

She pulled the unbroken swivel chair right up to the glass and sat down, elbows on her knees, resting her chin on her palms.

_One day I hope I'll–_

That's what he'd said, or started to say.

–_have that with someone._

Someone.

–_have that with… you_.

She had no right to think it. She had no right to want it.

But maybe she did.

"Tick, tock," she said to the empty room, and a sudden wind made the glass rattle.

Somewhere in the distance, she heard a church bell tolling.

"_What did I tell you about too much overtime, Beckett?_" came the voice from behind her.

She froze.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees in the space of a moment.

Every hair on her arms stood on end.

Somehow, she managed to shuffle her feet enough to slowly swivel the chair around. Her mind was blank, even as her blood ran cold.

Leaning against the closed door, arms folded, suit jacket always slightly too long in the body, stood Roy Montgomery.

She stared at him, mouth open in a silent scream.

He just looked implacably back at her, his eyes shifting restlessly from brown, to green, to blue, to grey.


	14. Chapter 14

"This isn't happening," she said.

"_That's what you said to Royce, too,_" Montgomery replied, his usually doleful eyes twinkling with repressed amusement.

He stepped forward, and Beckett sprang to her feet, but he only took a look around the storage room.

"_Used to smoke up here. Even once or twice while you were working for me. I never did tell Evelyn I still used to light up once in a while._"

He shook his head and laughed, and the sound sent a shiver up her spine.

"Oh god," she gasped, tears spilling from the corners of her eyes, then despite every instinct she stumbled forward and threw her arms around him. "Captain – _Roy_. I'm so sorry–"

"_None of that, Beckett_," he replied, giving her a brief hug and then dropping his arms to let her step back. "_I got what was coming. And it's not so bad, all things considered._"

He was cold. She could feel it through his clothes, as if his body was made of ice.

"Evelyn and the kids, they're doing well," she said, still wiping away tears. "I saw them just a month ago."

"_I know,_" he said. "_But tonight isn't about me._"

He walked over to the window and put his hands on his hips, looking out in silence. A few moments passed before Beckett spoke.

"Why is this happening to me?" she asked, in a small voice, and Montgomery shrugged, turning to face her again.

"_I think you're asking questions you've already answered, Detective. You trying to interrogate me?_"

She almost smiled, then she shook her head.

"_You know who sent me, and you know what this is about. So that leaves just one thing to figure out._"

She looked at him, still simultaneously fascinated and troubled by the ever-changing colour of his eyes.

"What I should do about it," she replied, and Montgomery nodded.

"_Bingo._"

"Why do I have to _do_ anything, sir?" She blushed at her accidental use of the honorific, and she swore she saw the barest trace of a grin on her former Captain's lips.

Montgomery sighed. "_Make that two things to figure out._"

He extended his hand towards her, and she hesitated for just a moment, puzzled, before she stepped forward and took it. It was cold too, unnaturally so, but she felt no pain. The cold seemed to stop at the edges of her skin, never penetrating further, as if it was bound to him.

"This is the part where the door starts glowing, right?" she asked, turning her head to look back at the opposite wall of the room.

"_Not my style,_" Montgomery replied cryptically, and Beckett barely had time to meet his eyes again before he suddenly pulled her towards the window.

They both passed right through the glass as if it were smoke, the sudden cold air stung her eyes, and then she thought they were falling.

_But__–_

No.

Not falling. Buoyant. Somehow.

The lights of the precinct's windows abruptly fell away, the edge of its roof flitted by, and then the city's glittering skyline came into view.

They hung there for a fraction of a second, and then shot off into the darkness.

They were flying.

* * *

Beckett had no words to describe it.

New York City's landmarks dominated the night. Skyscrapers. A billion lights. Glowing ropes of traffic, even at this hour. And she was soaring over all of it.

Montgomery was just to her right, still holding her hand, but not very tightly. She was flying alongside him, and she had no doubt that she could release his hand without plummeting to the ground.

_Impossible. Dream. Definitely a dream._

"_Whatever you say, Lois Lane,_" Montgomery chuckled, and somehow she could hear him over the howling wind.

Entire blocks whipped past below as they occasionally gained or lost altitude to follow the roofline. Then they began to slow.

_I know this neighbourhood_, she thought, searching for the one building she knew she'd recognise. She saw it just as Montgomery pointed towards it, and her stomach twisted with anxiety.

Castle's loft looked so ordinary from the outside, the building unassuming and conservative. There was only the occasional glow of a table lamp from the main part of the lower floor, but as they came closer and closer, slowing as they did so, she could pick out his office.

_He's there!_

She recognised his silhouette as they swooped down diagonally from across the street to hover outside. Castle stood there at a window, his face hidden in shadow, looking out at them.

"_He can't see you, Beckett,_" Montgomery said, and she somehow wasn't surprised to hear it.

"Are we… going in?"

The ghost nodded, and they moved directly towards an adjacent window, again passing straight through it. Beckett winced, but felt absolutely nothing. The next moment, she was standing in his familiar office, unheard and unseen, feeling like an intruder.

Castle swirled the amber liquid in the glass, staring out at the cold night. It was after midnight, and he knew he should sleep. He had to drive his mother to JFK the next morning, so one whisky was his limit. Still, he didn't feel quite ready for the day to end yet.

He sighed deeply, setting the glass down and reaching for the small remote control sitting on the shelf behind his desk. He pressed a button, and the large monitor nearby lit up immediately. He walked across to stand in front of it.

Beckett's mouth fell open.

"What–"

Slowly, as if her feet were made of lead, she walked around the large desk and stood just a couple of feet away from Castle.

_My mom's case._

Montgomery remained at the window, watching with his sad eyes.

"This is…" she began, quickly glancing around at the ghost before immediately returning her attention to the screen.

"You've been investigating? _How could you do this?!_"

She turned to him, and it took a second or two for her to remember that he couldn't see or hear her.

She returned her attention to the digital murder board, her eyes tracing every connection. After a moment, her eyebrows shot up.

"Some of this is new," she whispered.

Castle sighed again, then lifted his hand towards her, and her heart skipped a beat. But he was only raising the remote control.

"Wait, don't–" she cried out, but he had already switched the screen off. He threw the remote onto a nearby leather armchair, then walked back over to pick up his drink.

"When did this happen?" she asked, turning to face Montgomery, the shock evident on her face.

The ghost smiled sadly. "_This is live. We're here tonight._"

A chill ran up her spine.

"_A man contacted him,_" Montgomery continued, and her head whipped around to look at him. "_A man with information very damaging to the person who had your mother killed._"

She swallowed loudly, her hands clenched into fists at her side.

"_You were getting closer. Making the wrong people nervous. You know that. I know that. They were going to take another shot at you, and make it stick this time._"

Her mind whirled with images. Narratives and motives. Possibilities and scenarios.

"This… man," she said, in a small and barely controlled voice, "he gave the information to Castle?"

"_Is that how you're reading this?_" Montgomery asked, folding his arms again.

She frowned.

_No_, she thought. It didn't make sense. Castle would have come to her. Wouldn't he? Yes, he would have. He was loyal to a fault, no matter what danger it might put him in.

Her eyes widened.

"He bought my life."

Montgomery gave the barest nod.

"They leave me alone, and the information doesn't get out."

She was talking to herself now, building theory. She automatically glanced over at Castle, but he was looking out the window again, with the whisky glass in his hand.

"_And you had to drop the investigation,_" Montgomery added quietly.

Then it all made sense.

_Castle had to keep me away. Keep me from getting myself killed. That was the deal he made._

She was furious with him. He had absolutely no right to interfere like this. Her own _mother_ had been murdered, and he had relevant leads that he'd withheld from her. What the hell was he thinking?

"_Cut the crap, Kate,_" Montgomery said, and his tone was suddenly ominous. His voice now seemed to subtly echo around the room, and whilst it was certainly the familiar voice she knew, there was something else beneath it. Something not of this world.

She deflated, feeling goosebumps creep along her arms. She took a deep breath and forced herself to think rationally. It was so easy to imagine Castle's reasoning process.

_He chose to break my trust to keep me alive. He knew I'd find out someday, and that it'd probably mean the end of–_

"_Of sweet damn all, the way you're going._"

She looked up Montgomery, shocked and suddenly ashamed. His tone was fatherly now, and full of sadness.

"_He wants you to have your answers almost as much as you do. So he put himself in the line of fire instead._"

The new leads. The digital murder board. His own investigation, knowing it was a death sentence. Her stomach lurched as she thought of Alexis losing her beloved father.

"No," she sobbed, turning again towards Castle. "How could you be so stupid?"

"_Way I see it, the man had no choice,_" Montgomery said thoughtfully. "_You know how he feels about you._"

She did. And even though the anger was still there, she understood.

_It must have been eating him up inside ever since._

"_You got that right,_" Montgomery replied, nodding towards the window where Castle stood in silence, taking another sip of his whisky.

Beckett felt another tear slide down her cheek.

_You stupid man. You stupid, brave man. Why didn't you talk to me?_

Montgomery shifted his position slightly, and she knew that he'd been listening to her thoughts again. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to.

"Because I'd have thrown him out," she said, answering her own question. "Gone straight to his contact. Maybe even got myself killed. And he couldn't let that happen."

Montgomery tilted his head in agreement.

Her shoulders fell, and she nodded. "He was right. He knows what I'm like."

"You confuse the hell out of me, Kate," Castle murmured.

She froze for an instant and then spun around to face him, her heart pounding in her chest.

A long moment of silence passed before Castle slowly turned around. His eyes were on his whisky glass as he once again swirled the liquid around.

"You run hot one minute and cold the next," he said, still in the same soft tone. "I swear I don't even know what you're thinking these days."

He pursed his lips, then exhaled. After a moment he pushed himself away from the window and walked straight towards her.

_What's going on?_ her mind screamed, and then he was right in front of her and still coming… then he walked straight through her.

He came to a stop over beside one of the bookshelves that lined the room, looking at it without really seeing it.

"He can't see me," Beckett said in a shaky voice, more to herself than anyone else.

"_Nope,_" Montgomery replied.

Castle was talking to her, not knowing that she was actually there.

_I'm not actually here. I'm dreaming. This is just a bad dream._

"_So you keep telling yourself,_" Montgomery said. She gave him a brief glance, then returned her attention to Castle.

He stood in shadow again, and she saw him take another sip of whisky. She flinched when he suddenly spoke.

"I've been patient – god knows I have."

_I know!_ she thought, clasping her hands together.

"And sometimes… sometimes I think it might actually turn into something. Someday. Like the other day, when you took my arm… I want that."

His voice roughened.

"Even just that simple little thing. I want that so much. Just to touch you."

Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes.

"Why does that have to be a _bad_ thing?"

_It's not!_

"You know that… you know how I feel. I know you do. I know you heard me."

_Oh god._

"And I… I forgive you for… not wanting to remember. It's not your fault. It was mine."

_No!_

She was sobbing now. Guilt tore through her. She took three steps towards him, but she knew that if she reached out, her hands would pass straight through him.

_Because I'm a ghost here too._

It was clear that he'd spent the months since the funeral convincing himself that he'd been wrong to say those words to her, as she lay on the grass that day. That he'd frightened her away. Another burden for him to carry.

Castle reached up and swiped at the corner of his eye, and her heart broke for him.

"Sometimes I wish you'd just kick me out, once and for all," he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "Let me move on."

He paused for barely a second.

"If you won't just let me love you."

She wrapped her arms around herself, her tears flowing freely.

_Castle, what have I done?_

He only stood motionless for many long moments, then lifted the glass to his mouth and drained it in a single gulp.

He sighed deeply, then set the glass down on the bookshelf before slowly walking across to the doorway leading to his bedroom, and he disappeared inside. He closed the door behind him.

Beckett blinked away tears, unsure whether to follow, but then she felt Montgomery's hand on her arm.

"What can I–" she began, but the rest of her words were swallowed by another sob.

"_That's up to you,_" he replied. "_Right now, there's more to see._"

"No, Roy, _please_," she begged, but he only gave her a small, sad smile.

"_I'm sorry, Kate, but I'm not the boss on this one._"

He gently tugged her arm and led her towards the door in the middle of the partition wall, leading through to the main open plan area of the loft. It was closed, and he reached out to grasp the handle.

"_You're tough,_" the ghost said. "_Always respected that about you. Your strength._"

She looked up at him with large and watery eyes, feeling anything but tough right now.

"_You're going to need it,_" he said, then he twisted the handle and pulled the door open.


	15. Chapter 15

_**Author's note: I was taken aback by the very positive reviews for chapter 14 – thank you. Seeing those email notifications really makes my day.**_

_**I think the scene worked out well, with some interesting plot mechanics. To be honest, it made me a little nervous about following it.**_

_**I particularly wanted to explore how Beckett would respond to somehow seeing Castle when he wasn't being so careful around her, figuratively dancing like no-one is watching. That's the core of the emotional shorthand in A Christmas Carol, after all.**_

_**I also thought it was too good an opportunity to pass up, in allowing her to discover he'd been pursuing her mother's case, but making her unable to immediately confront him (since he can't see or hear her), thus forcing her to think about his motives.**_

_**Montgomery isn't finished with her yet, though – and of course there's a third ghost to meet before Christmas arrives.**_

* * *

Beckett stepped through the doorway from the darkened office and then stopped, blinking in the sudden light.

It was… still the loft. The living room area. She looked back over her shoulder and the doorway was behind her with Castle's office beyond, just where it always was. Montgomery stood to one side of it, his hand still on the door handle.

_But it's daytime now_.

She glanced around the expansive main floor of the Castle family family home, and noticed the clock on the wall. It said 7:25AM.

"It's… the next morning? Tomorrow?" she asked, but Montgomery just pointed towards a small side-table alongside one of the couches.

She walked over to take a closer look. It was a LEGO advent calendar, with a cluster of small Star Wars figures, ships and droids sitting in front of it. The toys had clearly come from the open sections of the calendar. Only one section remained sealed, and there was no sign that anyone was awake yet.

"It's Christmas Day," she said, in a hushed voice.

"_Bingo_," Montgomery replied.

_This hasn't happened yet. It's more than five days away. Is this even possible?_

She heard Montgomery's somehow chilling chuckle from behind her, and she blushed. The date was hardly the least plausible thing about this situation.

A large Christmas tree dominated one corner of the living area. Gifts small and large were stacked around it. The fairy lights strung around its branches were already twinkling, and she assumed it was plugged into a timer. Castle loved his gadgets.

Before she could move closer to investigate, she heard a door open upstairs, then the sound of approaching footsteps. After a moment, Alexis appeared on the stairs, descending quietly. The young woman was still in her pyjamas, with a thick robe over the top. There was a sparkle of childlike wonder in her eyes, even though she was all but an adult now.

_Just like your dad_, Beckett thought, smiling instinctively.

The redhead wandered over towards the tree, reached out towards one of the piles of gifts, then withdrew her hand again and crossed to the kitchen.

The coffee machine was soon percolating away, and a minute or so later, Beckett heard another door open nearby.

_Castle's bedroom._

The footsteps were heavier this time, and then he appeared at his office doorway, leaning against the frame. His hair stood up at the back, and he was wearing navy blue pyjama trousers and a t-shirt with the words _BEAM ME UP_ emblazoned across the chest in futuristic, bright-yellow letters.

He had no idea that Roy Montgomery stood only a few feet away from him, with a grin on his face.

"_Same old Castle,_" the ghost said, and Beckett nodded.

"He misses you, you know," she said, and Montgomery's smile became melancholy.

"_We'll meet up again down the road,_" he replied, and Beckett's heart seemed to skip several beats.

"_Not for a good long time,_" he added quickly, pointing a finger at her. She began to breathe again.

"Merry Christmas, pumpkin," Castle said, oblivious to the conversation that had taken place right in front of him, and Alexis turned quickly from the coffee machine. Her face lit up in a wide smile.

She dashed across the loft with the uncanny speed and grace of the young, and threw her arms around her father.

"Woah, careful with the old man," he said, burying his nose in her hair, but she only tightened her grip on him.

"Merry Christmas, dad," Alexis said, sounding just for a moment like a little girl again.

Beckett watched father and daughter together, and she felt a deep pull inside her. There was something primal about it.

_Family._

"_Alexis grew up,_" Montgomery said. "_She must be breaking hearts._"

"A few," Beckett replied with a small smile, her voice not quite steady.

Alexis released her father at last, and Castle slung an arm around her shoulder as they both walked back over to the kitchen.

"_You care about that girl,_" Montgomery said. It wasn't a question, but Beckett nodded anyway.

"I love her," she said, then she blinked in surprise at her own words.

"_Only just realised that one, huh?_"

Beckett looked around at him defiantly, but she couldn't read his expression. His eyes changed smoothly from brown to green to blue, then back. After a moment, Montgomery shrugged and began to slowly walk across the living room, passing straight through furniture instead of going around it.

"_Hell of a thing,_" he said, and again she looked over towards him. He was facing away from her, but she could hear him clearly.

"What is?"

"_Loving somebody and not knowing it._"

"Detective Beckett?" Alexis asked suddenly, and again Beckett froze for a moment before slowly turning towards where the girl now sat on one of the stools alongside the raised countertop.

Alexis was looking at her father, who was swiping at his phone. Castle shook his head without looking up.

"She's got the day shift today."

The girl's face fell, and Beckett felt her own stomach twist.

"Are you going to call her to say Merry Christmas?" Alexis asked, and Castle pursed his lips.

"Text, I think," he replied. "It's early. She'll be on her way in."

He tapped out a message and quickly sent it, then put the phone down. He smiled at his daughter, but the girl only gave him a look of compassion that broke Beckett's heart.

"How about some of that coffee?" Castle asked, and Alexis nodded slowly. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then decided against it and turned away to the coffee machine.

Castle's phone buzzed on the counter, and Beckett felt a burning curiosity.

_What did I say? Or what am I… going to say?_

"She says _Merry Christmas – say hi to Alexis and Martha for me_," Castle read, and Alexis shot him a brief smile that didn't reach her eyes.

She brought a cup of coffee over to her father and set it down in front of him. He smiled in thanks, picking it up and taking a sip.

"Dad…" Alexis began carefully, her gaze fixed on the countertop between them, "I know it's none of my business, but…"

Castle looked up at his daughter, curious but also ever so slightly concerned.

"…maybe it might be time to, you know, … actually, never mind. It's not my place to say."

He reached out and placed his hand over hers, until she looked up at him.

"I _always_ want to know what you think," he said, and she gave him a small smile then she sighed.

"I just wonder if maybe it's time for you to stop… chasing her, that's all."

_Oh god_, Beckett thought.

"Don't get me wrong," Alexis added quickly, "I really like Kate. I think I probably love her, even."

Beckett gasped and tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, then she took a single halting step forward before coming to a stop.

Castle smiled, and squeezed his daughter's hand.

"I just hate seeing you like… the way you are about her, all the time," Alexis finished, looking down at her own hands for a long moment before tentatively meeting her father's eyes again.

Castle smiled sadly, squeezing her hand again in reassurance.

"I know," he said simply.

Beckett wasn't sure which statement he was replying to, and she felt like there was a ball of ice in her stomach.

"_She always was a smart one. You've got that in common,_" Montgomery said, but Beckett refused to look at him.

"But you're going to keep waiting," Alexis said, with resignation in her voice.

Castle tugged his daughter's hand closer to him, and looked down at it.

"It's… just complicated. Or actually, it's simple."

Alexis just looked at him, waiting for him to continue. Castle sighed.

"I," he said, punctuating his words by quickly lifting her hand to his lips and kissing it, "am… in love with her."

Beckett clasped her hands in front of her mouth, her vision blurry. She blinked to clear some of the tears from her eyes.

Alexis's cheeks coloured slightly, and she smiled, but then the smile was immediately tinged with sadness.

"Well we all knew _that_," she said gently, and Castle looked up at her, with a shrug.

"And she annoys the hell out of me," he added. Alexis grinned.

"_And_, she's… tough. Kick-ass. Smart. Driven. And that'd all be fine. I could deal with that. I could walk away."

"But?"

"But my _god_ is she beautiful," he said wistfully, and Alexis burst into giggles.

Beckett's pulse raced. A part of her wished she could just walk over there and… what?

_But none of this has happened yet._

"Got it bad, huh?" the girl asked, enfolding her father's hand in both of hers, and he inhaled deeply then blew all the air out at once.

Castle and Alexis both sat in silence for a few moments, with identical bittersweet smiles, staring down at their linked hands. It was Alexis who spoke first, in a quiet voice.

"Does she make you happy?"

He looked up at her for a moment, then stared off into the distance. Alexis almost thought he wasn't going to reply, but after a long pause, he did.

"She could," he said softly. "Happier than I've ever been."

The girl nodded sagely.

"But not right now," she replied, and he didn't bother to deny it.

"Just… think about it, dad. I don't think _could_ is enough. Not forever."

He met her gaze again, and gave her another smile. "When did you get to be the adult out of the two of us?"

"Way I remember it, somewhere around my eighth birthday," she replied brightly, and he stuck his tongue out at her.

Montgomery walked across to where Beckett stood, taking his place just beside her. He looked at her thoughtfully, but didn't say anything.

"I've seen enough, Roy," Beckett said, her voice watery. She felt exhausted, physically and emotionally.

"_Show's not over,_" the ghost replied – and then something strange happened.

Castle and Alexis suddenly burst into silent motion, their limbs blurring. Every few seconds, one of them would dart away from where they sat, returning in the blink of an eye.

Martha appeared in an instant, then moved all around the kitchen and living room area, almost too fast to see.

"What's happening?" Beckett said, mild panic in her voice, as she took a step backwards.

Her eyes flicked to the clock on the wall, and she saw that its hands were advancing at an incredible rate. The minutes hand swept around, compressing hours into mere seconds. The sunlight from the window crawled in long strips across the walls. And then it all stopped.

Beckett blinked, seeing Castle walking back towards the kitchen from his office, clutching his phone. He was moving at normal speed and he was dressed now. Martha and Alexis sat on the couches nearby, also in their day clothes, an enticing smell was coming from the oven. The clock on the wall said 3:10PM.

_Fast forward_, Beckett thought.

Castle sat down in an armchair and began playing with his phone, and Beckett noticed that the gifts that had been under the tree were now unwrapped and stacked in various places around the living room area. In pride of place in the middle of the coffee table, there was a racing green safety helmet.

_I wish I could have seen her opening that_, Beckett thought, and Montgomery nodded to himself.

Castle's phone chirped, drawing the attention of both Martha and Alexis.

"Oh, is that Katherine? Do tell her Merry Christmas, Richard," Martha said. "Poor dear having to work today."

Castle only frowned, staring at his phone for several moments, then be blinked and looked up?

"Hmm? Oh, no, it's not. It's… huh."

Alexis raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Dad?"

"It's… that's weird. I didn't give her my number," he muttered to himself.

"_Dad_," Alexis said, more loudly this time, and Castle looked up again.

"It's a woman I bumped into at Black Pawn recently. Stephanie something. I think she works there. She seemed nice."

Beckett quickly turned to look at Montgomery, but the ghost only shrugged.

"How did she get your number?" Alexis asked suspiciously, and Castle shook his head.

"I guess… from Paula? Or maybe their computers. Probably the computers."

Beckett took a few tentative steps towards the coffee table.

_That's a little forward_, she thought, looking at Castle. _And creepy._

"A bit forward," Alexis said, and Beckett nodded triumphantly towards the girl.

"Can't blame a girl for trying, darling," Martha said. "Fortune favours the bold."

Castle gave his mother a look before returning his attention to the phone. "She just says Merry Christmas. Apologises for the direct approach. Says maybe we can have coffee sometime."

Beckett felt jealousy twist through her. She glanced over at Alexis again.

_Tell him not to reply. Say she's… invading his privacy_, she thought, but the girl didn't even glance in her direction. She suddenly realised that Alexis was thinking about the conversation she'd had with her father earlier, and her eyes widened.

"Maybe you should call her back," Alexis said quietly, and both Castle and Martha looked at her in surprise. The girl folded her arms, and shrugged.

"Well, why not?" she continued, a little defensively. "It's just coffee. You said she seemed nice. And she's obviously _interested in you_."

Beckett's heart sank.

Martha looked slightly confused, but Castle didn't miss the inflection in Alexis's voice, and neither did Beckett.

Castle looked at his daughter for a moment, then turned to stare at the Christmas tree. After several seconds, he exhaled.

"You know what? You're right. What the hell," he said, springing up from the armchair and heading towards his office.

Beckett clenched her fists at her sides, a fluttery feeling of panic rising in her chest.

"You've got to be kidding me, Castle," she said, as he strode right past her without seeing her. She turned and followed him into the office, walking right through the door as he unknowingly closed it in her face.

Montgomery stepped silently through a nearby bookcase to join them.

Castle rounded his desk even as he tapped at his phone's screen and then lifted the device to his ear. It could only rung a couple of times before his eyes shifted focus and he began to speak.

"Ah, hi," he said, "Stephanie? It's Richard Castle."

Beckett couldn't hear the other side of the conversation. She glanced towards Montgomery, but he only shook his head.

She scowled and returned her attention to Castle, wrapping her arms around herself as she listened to his side of the conversation.

"No problem. I just wanted to say Merry Christmas."

…

"Oh, the usual. A guy always needs more socks."

He laughed, and Beckett frowned.

…

"Yeah. I know how it is."

…

"That's right; a daughter. She got a scooter, and I guess I got something else to worry about."

More laughter.

…

Castle raised an eyebrow, and then nodded.

"Yeah, I did. I think… that'd be nice. Maybe in a couple of days?"

…

"The 28th sounds good. Yep, I know the place."

…

More laughter.

"Well, I'll try to keep that in mind! Yes. And you. I'll see you soon, then. Bye."

He hung up, then stared at the phone for a moment before sliding it into his pocket with a sigh.

Beckett felt crushed. She didn't take her eyes off him as he walked slowly back around his desk and then stopped, looking at the small pile of books sitting at one corner. The topmost one was a copy of _Heat Rises_. He reached out towards it and traced a finger over the cover thoughtfully.

Beckett took a few quick steps forward to stand beside him, and reached down to cover his hand with hers, but her fingers passed straight through.

"Don't do this," she whispered, her voice cracking, and a brief look of confusion passed over Castle's face. He glanced around the office, as if searching for something, then shook his head. After another moment, he turned and crossed to the door, opened it, and went back through to rejoin Alexis and Martha.

Beckett remained behind, and Montgomery appeared at her side.

"_You OK there?_" he asked, and she made a sound that might have been a small laugh.

"What do _you_ think?" she replied, swiping at her eyes.

"_I think you should get your head out of your ass before you suffocate, but that's not my call._"

She folded her arms again, still staring at the pile of books on his desk.

"Are we done here?"

"_One last stop,_" Montgomery replied, and she screwed her eyes shut in fatigue, anger, sadness, and a host of other feelings she didn't care to identify.

Her eyes snapped open again when she felt her feet leave the floor.

She was already a few centimetres above the polished wooden boards, and drifting towards the large windows of the office – the very one they'd entered through, in fact. Montgomery was a couple of metres ahead, his hands nonchalantly stuffed in his pockets as if he did this sort of thing all the time.

"_Keep your hands inside the ride, Beckett,_" he said, and then they plunged out into the cold daylight.


	16. Chapter 16

As they flew, day changed into night within moments.

The streets below were a blur of barely-glimpsed shapes, and lights in a hundred thousand windows flickered on and off ceaselessly. Night became day, and the cycle repeated.

Ten blocks hurtled by, and then another ten. They swooped right at an intersection, then left further on, then a dizzying series of turns. The sky changed colour above them.

Beckett counted the sunsets: there were three. Then it was suddenly day again, and the vista below abruptly snapped back to its normal speed. The change was jarring, and she felt a brief pulse of nausea.

They slowed, losing altitude, and in a matter of seconds her feet touched gently down onto the sidewalk. A young woman pushed a stroller by whilst talking on her phone, not noticing the two people who had come down out of the sky.

Beckett didn't need to ask. They stood in front of an upmarket bistro, with a wine-coloured awning overhanging its windows. The surround was a cherry-stained wood, and the door handles and fittings were brass. It exuded a quiet sense of sophistication.

Through the window, she caught sight of him.

Castle walked confidently through the tastefully-lit space, easily spotting the blonde woman at the corner table. Stephanie looked up and smiled at him as he approached.

Beckett walked up to the plate glass window and then, bracing herself and narrowing her eyes slightly, she stepped through. She found herself occupying the same space as a table, and she instinctively took a few more steps until she was standing in an open area. She quickly followed Castle, with Montgomery close behind her.

"Hi," Castle said warmly, extending a hand as Stephanie stood up to greet him. They shook hands, and she gestured to the chair opposite.

He removed his coat and sat down, and a waiter quickly appeared to take their coffee order.

A bolt of jealousy struck Beckett so powerfully that her mouth actually fell open. Within the space of a second, she was seething.

_Coffee_, she thought. Of all the things to invite him out for.

Not lunch, or dinner. Not drinks. Coffee.

With Richard Castle, coffee wasn't just a pick-me-up. It wasn't just a drink, or a morning ritual. Well, maybe it was when he was at home. But having coffee _with _someone… that was different. It was special.

_It's ours._

The waiter soon returned and set their drinks down. Castle had ordered his usual, and Stephanie had asked for a hot chocolate with whipped cream. Beckett rolled her eyes in contempt.

_He only drinks hot chocolate when he gets home. He takes his shoes off first. He adds a dash of nutmeg, and one big marshmallow, then he waits for the marshmallow to start melting underneath._

"You don't know a damn thing about him," she said, but the other woman didn't hear a word of it.

Castle and Stephanie were making polite conversation now. She apologised for being so forward in finding his number, and texting on Christmas Day. He apologised for not getting in touch.

She said she didn't think he was going to agree to meet her. He acknowledged that up until recently, he probably wouldn't have.

"So what changed?" the blonde asked, smiling shyly at him. Beckett clenched her fists.

Castle thought for a moment. "Call it… an early New Year's resolution," he replied with a small smile, then took a sip of coffee.

Stephanie considered the cryptic remark, then swept a strand of flaxen hair away from her forehead.

"Hmm. Well, I guess I should put my cards on the table."

Castle set his cup down, intrigued.

"You're a very attractive, intelligent and charming man, Mr. Castle. Or can I call you Richard?"

Beckett felt another wave of nausea. Stephanie was tall, slim, well-dressed, immaculately turned out, and clearly knew how to go after what she wanted. Her hair was naturally honey-blonde, and her large, blue-grey eyes were focused completely on Castle.

"Actually, only my mother calls me that," he replied, with another smile. "Why don't we go for Rick."

"Rick," she said, trying it out, and she smiled a secret smile that Beckett knew would be catnip to Castle. Sure enough, he unconsciously leaned forward slightly.

"So, _Rick_, do I… have some competition, maybe?"

He looked down at his cup, considering his words, and knowing that the woman was scrutinising him. She seemed genuine, and she was certainly very attractive. He was flattered by the attention.

_I was starting to forget what this felt like_, he thought.

"You're… the only one who's put their cards on the table recently," he said, with a slightly tight-lipped, self-deprecating grin. Beckett swallowed, pushing away a tide of both guilt and panic.

Stephanie nodded, returning the grin. "Honesty. That's a pretty good start."

Castle shrugged, picking up his cup again.

"Should I be worried?" Stephanie asked, and he knew she was trying to appear nonchalant, while asking a serious question. It wasn't the first time that one of his dates had quickly realised there was someone else in the equation.

He looked at her for a long moment, and snippets of his conversation with Alexis flitted through his mind. It would be easy to charm this stranger, and then… what?

_The truth is easier_, he thought.

"Stephanie," he began, setting his cup down once again, "I'm going to be straight with you, because you deserve it, and because you invited me here, and because you're a very attractive woman – but mainly because you've reminded me what it's like to be here, like this."

She smiled.

"I can't promise you anything," he said. "My situation is… a little complicated. But there's no-one else in my life right now, in that way."

He paused for a moment before continuing.

"There's somebody I've hoped it would happen with for a long time now, but the fact that I'm here… well, it's because I'm coming around to the idea that it probably won't."

Beckett didn't think she'd ever shed as many tears as she had tonight, and yet more slipped out and tumbled down her cheeks.

Stephanie nodded in understanding, never breaking eye contact. Castle sighed, and then spoke again.

"So… no promises, except that I'm not here to waste your time. This is… kind of new for me again. I'm still figuring out where I am. We're having coffee, and so far, it's… nice."

Another pause, for barely a second.

"I guess what I'm saying is that I'm kind of coming out of something. Even if the thing never actually happened. I completely understand if that's a little too much to handle."

Castle smiled wearily at the woman across from him, but he felt better. Lighter. Whatever else he thought today was about, he'd _needed_ to say those things to someone – and he'd needed to feel desired again.

"Thank you," Stephanie said warmly, and he raised an eyebrow at her in a silent question.

"For telling me the truth," she added. "I already had a feeling you weren't the kind of guy to mess a girl around."

_He's not_, Beckett thought. _He's the most loyal and caring man I've ever met._

Castle tilted his head to one side, and his meaning was clear. _I've had my moments_.

Stephanie reached across the table and put her hand on top of his just for a moment, then lifted it away again.

Beckett's knuckles were white.

"And it's not, by the way," Stephanie said. "Too much to handle, I mean. As long as you keep being straight with me."

She glanced down at the table's surface for a moment, then looked up at him through her eyelashes.

"I like you, Rick," she said quietly. "I hardly know you, but I have a strong feeling that you're a decent man. I can't promise anything either, but I'm not walking away right now."

Castle looked at her, allowing himself to really see the woman in front of him.

_This conversation is already more than I've had with Beckett in the last year_, he thought sadly.

And with that, he made up his mind.

"I'm glad," he said at last, and Stephanie smiled at him once again.

Beckett closed her eyes, tuning out the rest of the conversation.

_No, no, no, no, NO! Not when we were… we were so… we were going to–_

"_Going to what, Kate? Keep on tap-dancing for another four years?_"

Her eyes snapped open in search of Montgomery, then she flinched.

The bistro was in darkness, the only light coming from the chilled display units below the counter along the opposite wall.

Castle and Stephanie were gone. There was no-one else there. The place was empty.

Montgomery was standing further up, near a large table. His hands were in his pockets, and he was looking out the plate glass window towards the street.

"Where did they go?" she asked, her voice rising in pitch. _Did he… take her back to…?_

"_Doesn't matter_," the old ghost replied, not looking around at her.

"What time is it now? What _day_ is it?" she asked, and finally a hint of anger appeared in her voice.

Montgomery chuckled to himself, then nodded out towards the street. "_No particular time at all._"

She followed his gaze, and noticed for the first time that there was no-one outside either. No cars. No pedestrians. No sounds, from the city that never sleeps.

And then she began to be scared.

"Roy… what is this place?" she asked. Her voice was that of a child.

"_Waiting room, I guess you'd call it,_" he replied. "_This is the last thing I needed to show you._"

She looked out again at the silent streets. She could see part of the way down two intersecting blocks. There were some lights, but no people. No movement.

"I don't understand," she said quietly, and at last he turned to look at her. His strange eyes shifted rapidly from brown to green, blue to grey, and back again.

"_This is where I live now,_" he said.

A shiver ran up her spine. He lived in this empty place? Where was everyone else? Everyone who had ever–

"_Died?_" he asked, and she swallowed. "_They moved on down the road. Just a few of us here, not that we can see or hear each other. This is my personal waiting room. That's how it works. It's a half-way house, you might say._"

"Why?" Her voice was only a whisper now, and he could see the whites of her eyes.

"_Because I still had something to do. Unfinished business._"

She blinked, considering his words. Her arms were covered with goosebumps.

"You've been here… ever since that day?"

Montgomery nodded sadly. "_Time is different here, Beckett. It's been a lot longer than you might think. But now my time's nearly up._"

It all clicked into place, and again her stomach felt like it was filled with ice.

"You've been waiting here… for me," she said. "For tonight."

He nodded, his expression unreadable.

"So now you can go… wherever you go next."

"_That depends on you. There's somebody else who needs to talk to you first. But she won't be around just yet._"

Beckett's legs felt unsteady beneath her. She reached out towards a chair, and was surprised when it was solid under her fingers.

"_This place is the same as what we are right now,_" Montgomery said, and she nodded even though she didn't really understand. She pulled out the chair and sat down heavily in it.

She was just starting to get her breathing under control when he spoke again.

"_This is a city of regrets, Beckett. You keep on going down that path you're on, you're gonna get to know it real well someday._"

She shuddered, her pulse accelerating again.

"I want to go home," she said, and suddenly she thought of Castle again, and the blonde woman. Her stomach twisted.

"_You ever stop to ask yourself why you feel that way about him?_"

She sighed, too exhausted to evade the question. "I try not to."

Montgomery smiled, but somehow it was chilling rather than comforting.

"_Tick, tock,_" he said, and her eyes snapped up to meet his.

She was silent for several seconds before she spoke, and when she did, her gaze fell to the floor.

"It's all going to happen, isn't it? He's going to… move on."

Montgomery didn't reply.

"Then that'll be it, this time. He's tired of waiting for me. I know that. I've known it for a while."

More silence.

"He's in love with me. You probably knew that, just like you know everything."

Brown to green to blue, and back again.

Another tear rolled down her cheek, and she didn't even bother to swipe it away.

"And…"

She trailed off, then made a sound that was almost a sob, but infinitely more tired.

"And I'm in love with him too."

A cold breeze whipped through the darkened bistro, and she instinctively glanced in the direction it had come from. There was nothing to see. The door was sensibly shut.

She looked around at Montgomery, and he wore that same sad smile she knew so well.

"_You take care of yourself, Kate Beckett,_" he said. "_It's been an honour._"

Her brow creased in confusion, and again the icy breeze caught her off guard. Her eyes searched the darkest corners of the large space. Still nothing.

"What's happening?" she asked, but Montgomery didn't reply. She looked around again, and he was gone.

"No!" she cried, leaping up from the chair and taking several stumbling steps to where he had stood. The faintest smell of his aftershave lingered in the air.

_I'm trapped here_, she thought, and she felt a profound dread closing in around her.

She ran towards the door, but only made it half way before the chill wind returned – and this time it was more like a hurricane.

Her feet left the floor and she was catapulted through the air. She saw the approaching row of tables, and she squeezed her eyes shut, but the impact never came.

When she opened her eyes again, she was outside in the silent, brooding other-city, tumbling up into the air. The unearthly wind had her in its grip, and she was powerless to do anything.

Buildings fell away beneath her, and she shot farther and farther up into the sky. The entire cityscape was soon revealed, and it was terrible.

The few lights she'd seen from the bistro didn't extend much beyond street level. Above, all was dark.

Thousands upon thousands of unlit buildings, with a million windows like dark eyes, silently waiting. The outlines of skyscrapers were barely-seen shadows against the iron grey clouds that filled the sky from horizon to horizon. The moon was only a vague suggestion, somewhere beyond.

The temperature dropped as she was pulled up into the ominous sky. She shivered, but she couldn't even keep her arms wrapped around her. She spun, tumbling head over foot again and again.

Below, the dark city watched silently, uncaring.

Colder. Colder still.

_Can I breathe up here_? a part of her mind wondered, but the thought was lost in the white noise of her fear and disorientation.

Then all at once, it stopped.

She hung there, in the sky, thousands of feet over the shadow-replica of New York City, perfectly still. No more wind. No sound.

Her cold, clumsy fingers scrabbled around her neck, finally pulling out the chain with some difficulty. She fed it through her fingers, until eventually she reached the ring.

She touched it.

And then she fell.

* * *

The first impact was to her knees, and she threw her arms out as she tipped violently forward.

Then the heels of her hands connected jarringly with something… smooth?

Smooth and cold, but not very. Her breath rattled in her throat, and she could feel her heartbeat through her entire body.

Slowly, she opened her eyes.

Her mother's ring hung on its chain in front of her, dangling from her neck. It almost reached the scarred linoleum floor her hands were braced against. The air smelled stale, but familiar.

_Storage room_.

She shuffled around on her hands and knees, and bumped into something.

_The chair. I fell out of the chair. I fell asleep._

She scrambled to her feet, looking around anxiously, but she was alone.

Same old room.

_Where Roy used to smoke_, she thought, and she shivered.

She could see out through the large window, and even at this late hour, traffic moved by, along with the occasional pedestrian. But what hour was it, exactly?

She tucked the chain back into her blouse, then pulled back her sleeve to look at her wristwatch.

It was two minutes past midnight.

_Time is different here, Beckett_, her mind whispered.

She gritted her teeth, absolutely refusing to cry. She stood defiantly in the small room, resisting the urge to run. It was just a room – though she didn't think she'd be coming back here anytime soon.

She counted out a full minute, then she crossed to the door, opened it, and stepped out into the corridor.


	17. Chapter 17

_**Author's note: Thanks so much for the reviews, and for reading. Of all my stories on the site, this story has been by far the most enjoyable – and challenging – to write.**_

* * *

The lunchtime rush was in full swing as Beckett stepped out of the precinct onto the busy sidewalk.

She had gone straight home the night before and collapsed into bed, and against all her expectations, she'd fallen asleep immediately. Her dreams were troubled, but they had faded with the light of morning. She had already been up for fifteen minutes when the call came in from Esposito. They'd finally had a break in the case.

An early-morning hunch from Ryan had yielded a very promising line of enquiry, and at last they had a suspect. The woman in question had lawyered up immediately and her counsel had been delayed in arriving, so the morning was mostly quiet as they expanded their enquiries.

Beckett's father had called for a brief chat, telling her that he'd be out of town for Christmas Day, visiting an old college buddy. It wasn't a surprise. The Becketts rarely had a family Christmas after Johanna's death, and the two tended to just meet up sometime during the following week instead. Jim knew very well that his daughter always arranged to work the day shift on the 25th.

She hadn't called Castle that morning, knowing he was taking Martha to the airport. A text from him arrived just after 10AM, telling her that his mother's flight was delayed and he was going to wait with her at the airport, and would be in after lunch. He had also said _**Five days til Christmas!**_

She thought about it again now, as she stood just outside the precinct's entrance, deciding where to go for lunch.

_Five days._

Until Castle and Alexis had a conversation at the kitchen counter.

_That was a dream._

Until the girl unwrapped a green safety helmet.

_If she gets one, it's just a coincidence. Or… a logical deduction._

Until Castle got a text message, at 3:10PM.

_I don't believe that._

And yet she did. Without evidence, and against reason.

She glanced at her wristwatch.

_Five days, two hours, seven minutes._

She tugged the collar of her coat more tightly around her, then turned to head for the nearby deli – then she froze.

Stephanie was half a block away, walking towards her.

Beckett closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

_Get a grip_, she commanded herself. After a moment, she opened her eyes again.

The blonde woman was closer now, and there no question about it: it was indeed Stephanie.

A chill briefly ran up Beckett's spine, but she pushed it away.

Stephanie's blonde hair glowed in the low midday Winter sun. Her black wool coat was long and elegant, and a thin red scarf was wrapped around her neck. The heels of her expensive shoes clicked on the sidewalk, and Beckett could see the white cable of in-ear earphones running into her coat between two buttons. She moved with an easy grace, and she was completely unaware of Beckett's scrutiny.

_I wonder if they share the same taste in music_, Beckett's mind mused, and then jealousy hit her like a punch to the gut.

_You bitch_, she thought, then she was immediately ashamed of herself. Insecurity welled up in her, and she averted her eyes as Stephanie drew close and then passed by, oblivious.

Beckett slowly turned to watch the blonde woman walking away.

She felt very small. This stranger had done nothing at all to wrong her, and she wasn't the sort of woman who saw the rest of her gender as competition in the pursuit of men.

_She's… pretty_, she thought, her stomach twisting. _And she looks confident and successful. Not… broken._

Stephanie turned at an intersection and disappeared from view, and Beckett sighed. Her appetite for lunch had vanished. She stood there, uncertain what to do next.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she fished it out wearily. The message notification said _Castle_.

She instinctively glanced off in the direction the blonde woman had gone, but there was no sign of her. She unlocked her phone to read the message.

_**Just getting back home - traffic! Probably just get lunch here then come in.**_

She was walking before she'd made a conscious decision. It took only a minute to reach her Crown Vic. With any luck, she could be at the loft within ten minutes.

* * *

Castle was surprised to hear the knock on the door while he was pulling pans out of one of the cupboards in the kitchen.

Alexis wouldn't be home until early evening, and Martha was airborne, en route to her sister.

He crossed to the door and pulled it open, and he was surprised to see Beckett standing there.

"Oh," he said. "Hey."

"Hi," she replied, looking at him carefully.

"Uh… come in," he said, stepping aside so she could move past him. He closed the door behind her, watching as she walked halfway towards the living room area and then stopped, turning to face him.

"Sorry to just drop by," she said, fidgeting with the flap of her coat. "I got your text. Just wanted to… see that Martha got away OK. I'm on my lunch break."

"Oh," he replied. "Yeah. She'll be back in three days."

"Great," she replied, with a smile.

There was an awkward silence, and she glanced around the loft, looking at nothing in particular.

"You OK?" Castle asked, taking a small step towards her.

"Fine," she said brightly. "Oh, we had a break in the case. Got a suspect. Her lawyer is coming in. We're going to do the interview this afternoon."

"Huh," he said. "Finally. Last night was a killer."

_You have no idea_, she thought.

Suddenly, Castle snapped his fingers and pointed towards her, and she blinked in surprise.

"I've got to show you something!" he said, gesturing towards his office and then striding off in that direction. She paused for just a moment before following him, a feeling of unease stealing over her.

His office looked just as it always did. Her eyes immediately went to the window she'd–

_Dreamed about_, her mind supplied.

Castle was rooting around in the far corner, where he had several tall filing cabinets.

She looked over towards the large monitor mounted not far from his desk, and she swallowed. She could see the armchair nearby, and on it sat a remote control.

She turned her head to look back at the bookcases which formed the partition wall separating the office from the rest of the loft, and on the furthest one, close to his bedroom door, on a shelf around chest height there sat an empty whisky glass.

The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

_You confuse the hell out of me, Kate_.

She shoved her hands into the deep pockets of her coat, taking a few measured breaths.

_I couldn't have been here. It's not possible. But I… think I was._

"Check _this_ out," Castle said, with boyish excitement in his voice, coming back over towards his desk with a medium-sized, nondescript brown cardboard box in his arms.

He set it down on the desk, opening the flaps on top, then beckoned her over. She closed the distance between them reluctantly.

"It's for Alexis," he said.

The clock on the wall seemed very loud.

_Tick, tock._

She peered into the box.

Easily visible amongst dozens of foam packing pellets, there was a racing green safety helmet.

Beckett grasped the edge of the desk, suddenly off-balance. She swallowed hard, then forced herself to smile.

"Wow, that's… that's beautiful, Castle. Great colour."

He nodded enthusiastically, his eyes still focused on the gift for his daughter. "It's _exactly_ the same colour as the scooter. I checked."

_Of course it is_, she thought, forcing herself to breathe evenly. _And I've seen it before. Or later. With Roy._

"She's going to love it," she said, and she was pleased to hear that her voice sounded steady and normal.

"Hope so," he said, but there was no doubt in his voice. He quickly closed up the box and returned it to the cabinet he'd hidden it in, then rejoined her in front of his desk.

"I was just going to make lunch. Did you eat already?"

She shook her head, and he frowned slightly, as he always did when he felt she wasn't taking proper care of herself.

"Lunch for two it is," he said, striding out of the office and towards the kitchen, not waiting to hear any arguments.

Beckett looked around the office once more, half expecting to see Montgomery standing somewhere nearby.

_What's happening to me? _she wondered, but the empty room had no answer to offer.

Five minutes later, she was perched on a stool at the kitchen counter, her coat on the coatrack in the entranceway, watching him puttering around making a pasta dish for the two of them.

_Taking care of me again_, she thought.

It was always this way. He would insist that she ate, and that she had enough to drink, and that she got enough sleep. She fought him on every point, except when coffee was involved, but he stood firm. He refused to let her mistreat herself.

Her mind drifted back to how short she'd been with him yesterday at the precinct just before Jenny arrived, when he'd been going to say she should take a break. After the interruption, she'd never had the chance to apologise. It felt like days ago.

"Listen, Castle, I'm sorry about yesterday."

He turned towards her, twisting the timer for the pasta. "Hmm?"

"You were trying to get me to take a break, when we weren't getting anywhere with the case. And you were right. I'm sorry I snapped at you."

A brief look of surprise passed over his face, then it was replaced with a warm smile.

"No problem," he said. "I'd forgotten about it."

_Because that's what you do_, she thought sadly. _You just… keep letting me get away with it._

He deserved better. Of course he did.

_Like Stephanie?_ her traitorous mind whispered, and she felt her stomach twist in anxiety again.

It must have shown on her face, because Castle frowned, stepping over to the counter and laying his hands flat on the surface.

"Are you sure you're OK? It seems like you've got something on your mind."

_You might say that._

He was surprised to see the flash of colour in her cheeks as her gaze dropped to where his hands lay.

"I'm OK," she said quietly, but she didn't sound like she entirely believed it.

His hand twitched automatically as he instinctively wanted to reach out to her, then it stilled. He knew that she would never allow it.

She saw the movement, and she knew what it meant. Suddenly she remembered how Stephanie had reached out and covered his hand with hers, just for a moment, in the bistro, and all of a sudden she was angry.

Angry at Stephanie, giving him the tenderness he so clearly wanted. Angry at Royce and Montgomery, for making her feel so unanchored. Angry at her mother, for… getting her into this mess in the first place.

Angry at Castle, for not pushing back. For not fighting harder. For not waiting for her, as long as it took.

But mostly, angry at herself. And that was really the heart of it, wasn't it? Because Castle had tried a hundred times. With a look, with a word, with a gesture. With his actions. With his loyalty. With the extra meanings that were only hers to decipher.

_Your sustenance, Detective._

_Always._

The clock continued to mark the passing seconds, and minutes, and hours.

_Tick, tock._

Maybe instinct was a better guide.

She reached out and put her hand on top of his, and then stared down at it, unable to quite believe she'd done it.

She knew without looking up that his face would show shock, then the barest trace of an awed smile before concern stole it away again.

"Kate?" he said quietly, after a moment, but she didn't lift her gaze.

Instead, she reached over with her other hand and clasped his in both of hers. She saw and felt his fingers tighten around hers.

"What's happened?" he asked, still quietly but with a note of urgency in his voice now. "Is everybody OK? Jim? Lanie and the guys?"

She made a sound that approximated a laugh, and nodded, still staring at their joined hands. His other hand came up to cover hers.

"Uh… has Gates been… giving you a hard time? Set the bullpen on fire with her dragon breath?"

She smiled for a moment, and clasped his hand even tighter. He followed suit, but clearly being careful not to squeeze her fingers too tightly.

When she finally met his gaze, he could see that she was struggling with something.

"Hey," he said gently, and the affection in his tone almost made her lose the weak grip she had on her emotions. "Whatever it is, it's OK. It's going to be fine."

She sighed.

"You can just tell me what's wrong," he continued, "and I will _not rest_ until I've asked Alexis what to do about it."

This time her laugh was genuine, and she actually saw his shoulders relax slightly. Her gaze softened, and she saw his eyes widen slightly.

_I lov–_

But she couldn't finish that thought, sitting right here, looking straight at him. Holding his hand in hers.

There was still a question in his eyes, and she knew he was waiting for her to say something.

"I've… I'm OK," she said. "I've just–"

–_seen Mike Royce and Roy Montgomery. And my mom._

–_lost my mind._

–_been forging my chain._

…

–_fallen in love with you._

"–been having some bad dreams. It's just, you know. This time of year."

Castle nodded in understanding, his face full of compassion. He knew very well how difficult Christmas was for her. It was one of the times when she missed her mother most of all.

He squeezed her fingers again, and she gave him a small smile.

"Alexis told me to ask if you'd like to join us for Christmas dinner," he said brightly. "You could come over in the morning. Alexis still gets up really early to see what Santa left under the tree."

_She'll be up by 7:30AM this year_, Beckett thought, suppressing a shiver.

"That sounds really nice," she said, and she meant it. "But I've got the day shift already."

He nodded, dropping his gaze to their joined hands on the countertop. Then he looked up again, with a bright smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Maybe next year," he said.

The timer buzzed loudly behind him, but he didn't flinch. Neither of them moved for several seconds. Each could feel the other's pulse through their intertwined fingers.

At almost the same moment, they both slowly let go of the other's hands, and Castle gave her one last look before turning his attention back to preparing their lunch.

Beckett clasped her hands together, on the same area of the countertop.

_Five days_, she thought, feeling the now familiar sense of panic rise up again in her chest.

She was sitting in the same stool that Castle would sit in. Where he'd say that she could make him happy, and then his daughter would say that _could_ isn't enough.

_And she's right._

The clatter of plates pulled her from her thoughts, and as the aroma of the pasta sauce drifted across to her, her appetite returned in full force. Castle began to dish up, turning to glance over at her with a saucepan and a wooden spoon in his hands.

"Ready?" he asked. She nodded, and he gave her a quick smile before continuing with his task.

_That's the question_, she thought.


	18. Chapter 18

_**Author's note: Busy week. A brief chapter, to ease back in. Thanks so much for the many kind reviews - they're always a pleasure to read.**_

* * *

They had made small talk while eating lunch. Castle never broached the subject of how preoccupied she'd been, instead choosing to distract her with anecdotes about past Christmases with his mother and Alexis.

He made her laugh several times, and the sound of it was a relief to him. If she wouldn't let him comfort her the way he wanted to, then at least he could remind her of some of the brighter parts of life.

Beckett knew what he was doing, and she was grateful for it – not just for the sentiment behind his jokes and obviously exaggerated stories, but also because it was safe. She didn't have to think about how his hands had felt between and around hers. How he'd been within arm's reach, his voice low and full of protectiveness.

They both went into the precinct after lunch, and Castle watched from the observation room as she and Esposito interviewed the suspect, with the lawyer present. The interrogation got off to a rocky start, but Ryan's timely arrival with a new piece of evidence turned everything around. They had a confession within an hour.

Gates took the three detectives aside to congratulate them, knowing how frustrated they'd been the previous day. Castle made himself scarce, taking his time with making four coffees in the break room. He knew they'd all have paperwork to complete, and then hopefully they'd manage to leave at a reasonably normal time. He carried Ryan's and Esposito's coffees to their respective desks, then returned to the machine to serve up his and Beckett's.

She walked into the room while he was still puttering around with his back to her. He was humming a tune to himself, and she leaned against the door frame for a moment, just watching him.

_That's the Victory March from Star Wars_, she realised, with a grin. He probably wasn't even aware he was doing it.

She waited until he'd put both cups down before making herself known.

"Hey," she said, and he glanced over his shoulder towards her, with a smile on his face.

"I take it the Captain is pleased," he replied, picking up the two cups and carrying them across to where she stood. He handing her one of them carefully.

Beckett nodded. "She said we can all take off once the paperwork has been filed."

She took a sip of her coffee, while he waited for his to cool a little, as usual.

"Impressive work from Ryan. Hope Espo's giving him the glory," he said. "Looks like you didn't need me today after all."

His tone was light, and it was clearly a throwaway remark, but her brow creased nonetheless.

_You really believe that_, she thought.

For all his teasing about the times he'd saved her life, or provided the crucial insight that led to solving a case, or even just bringing her coffee and meals, deep down he still thought that she could dismiss him at any time, without thinking twice about it.

And she did, of course. Often. Whenever he was fidgeting in his chair, or playing Angry Birds just a little too boisterously, or staring at her while she worked. She'd say _Castle, go home before I shoot you_, or _You're just getting in the way, Castle_ – and he'd go. Sometimes he'd put up some resistance, but in the end she always had the last word.

Because, as far as he was concerned, ultimately she just didn't need him to be there.

_You're the only one who's put their cards on the table recently_, Castle's voice said in her mind. But he had been talking to Stephanie at the time.

"We do need you here," she said, looking down at the cup of dark liquid she clasped in both her hands. "I do. Maybe I don't tell you that enough."

She looked up at him after a moment, and she could see that he was controlling his expression. There was barely-concealed concern there, but mostly he looked surprised.

"Well, you've got me," he said brightly, defusing the tension of the moment. He gave her a warm smile, which didn't entirely erase the puzzlement in his eyes.

_For now,_ she thought.

He watched as she turned and left the break room, on the way back to her desk.

_I'm going to find out what's on your mind, Kate_, he thought. _Even though I'm not sure how._

He followed her across the bullpen, sipping at his coffee, then took his usual place in the guest chair. She glanced at him as he sat down.

"And thanks, by the way," she said, "for the coffee."

"Always," he replied, raising his mug with a small smile.

_Doesn't sound so bad_, she thought.

She looked at him for long moment, deep in thought, then she returned her attention to the open case file sitting in front of her.

They sat in silence for five minutes or so, Beckett sorting through the various documents in the file and Castle drinking his coffee and swiping idly at his iPhone, until she risked a quick glance over at him again. His attention was on his phone, so she took a moment to just look at him.

She'd seen him with other women before, many times. Most of them were blondes, though a few weren't. But they were all so obviously temporary. It was hard to imagine him in a truly serious relationship with someone.

_Else_, her mind added. _Someone else. But that's exactly what's going to happen._

Her gaze fell to the elephants on her desk, and again the painted porcelain eyes of the lead elephant stared up at her unblinkingly.

_Still one more to go_, she thought, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. She pushed the thought away, knowing it would return with nightfall.

"Got any plans for while Martha's away?" she asked, and Castle blinked up at her.

"Uh… not really. Just the usual. Writing. And getting things ready for Christmas. I really need to get on that."

She nodded.

"How about you?" he asked. "Are you meeting up with Jim before or after?"

"After," she said. "He called this morning. He'll be visiting one of his college friends."

Castle thought for a moment, then sat up slightly straighter in his chair.

"Alexis and I are just going to be getting a pizza delivery tonight. Kind of a tradition when mother is out of town. Maybe watch some TV, or a movie. Just unwind."

Beckett folded her hands on the desk in front of her, holding his gaze steadily. "Sounds nice."

He nodded before continuing.

"Listen… I know you've already dined _chez_ Castle today, but… why don't you come over after work? You could use some downtime, and I bet you've got nothing to eat at your place."

He looked at her carefully. He fully expected her to turn him down, saying that she was tired, or she had some things to do at home, and if she did then he wouldn't push it. She'd been acting weirdly today.

_Maybe she needs some space_, he thought.

"I'd love to," she said. "Maybe around seven?"

He blinked in surprise. "Uh… great! That's great. Seven is… great."

She grinned at him for a moment, but she didn't say anything before resuming her work on the case file.

Castle sat back in his chair, eyes focused on the trace of a grin that still lingered on her face.

_That was unexpected_, he thought. _But I'll take it._


	19. Chapter 19

The paperwork had taken less than two hours, and Beckett left the precinct by 4:45PM, with Ryan, Esposito and Castle in tow. They all parted ways outside the building, each looking forward to a much-needed long evening of relaxation.

Beckett looked out of the window of the cab without really seeing the streets moving by. It was almost seven o'clock, and she knew Castle would have ordered the pizza by now, and would probably be lounging on one of the couches in his expansive living room.

Her phone buzzed, and she fished it out of her coat pocket. The message was from Lanie.

_**Javi tells me you finished early for once. You work too hard! Having a TV night?**_

She smiled at her friend's concern, quickly tapping out a reply.

_**Kind of. In taxi going to the loft. C and A are doing pizza and movie while Martha is out of town.**_

She winced slightly as she sent the message, knowing that Lanie would pounce on the news. The response arrived within thirty seconds.

_**COSY!**_

She huffed, shaking her head even as she typed.

_**Shut up**_

She swore she could actually hear Lanie cackling. This time, it was barely twenty seconds before her phone buzzed again.

_**Does Alexis still have a bedtime?**_

Beckett snorted.

_Castle would love this_, she thought, grinning for a moment before her expression faltered.

He _would_ love it – but then he'd back down. Defuse the situation, just like earlier, because he knew it would make her uncomfortable. The thing he probably wanted most, and he'd step back from it again and again.

The taxi rolled past an old church, set back in a small square on the corner of a block, with a shabby but still beautiful bell tower. Its worn noticeboard had a new banner pinned to it, with the words _CHRISTMAS IS A TIME OF HOPE_ in stark, slender black letters.

_Is that the bell I keep hearing?_ she wondered. There was no way to know.

She sighed, pushing the thought away. There would be time enough later to listen for the distant chime of a bell, and a voice in the dark, as she waited for sleep.

She tapped out a reply and sent it, as the taxi neared Castle's neighbourhood.

_**GOOD NIGHT Lanie**_

The typing indicator appeared immediately, and she smiled again. She didn't even manage to count to ten before the new message slid onto the screen in a blue bubble.

_**Good LUCK! xxx**_

She shook her head again, knowing she'd be interrogated tomorrow.

"One problem at a time," she muttered, as the taxi began to slow.

* * *

Castle sprang up from the couch when he heard the knock at the door, drawing a tight-lipped grin from Alexis.

"Pizza or Beckett?" she asked, and he paused mid-stride to look back at her.

"If you're asking who's at the door, it's Beckett – I know her knock," he replied. "And if that's some _other_ kind of question, well… I think you know the answer."

Alexis covered her face with her hands, and Castle grinned and resumed his course towards the door, reaching it a few seconds later. He opened it, and there she stood.

"Hi," she said, with a smile. His eyes flicked down and then quickly back up. She'd changed into jeans and a more casual blouse since she left the precinct.

"Long time no see," he replied, returning the smile. "Come on in."

She crossed the threshold and took a few steps into the entranceway as he closed the door behind her. She felt his hands skate over her shoulders, and she tensed for a moment. Castle slid her coat off and quickly hung it on the rack just inside the door.

It was something he'd done a few times before, and it usually earned him a raised eyebrow or a sarcastic remark. He paused for a moment, giving her an opening, but she only turned to look at him.

_Looks a little uncomfortable_, he thought, adding it his mental list of unusual behaviour recently.

"Food should be here any minute," he said, gesturing towards the living room area. "Make yourself comfortable."

"Thanks," she said quietly, then she turned and walked across towards the largest couch, where Alexis was sitting.

"Hey, Alexis," Beckett said brightly, and the girl gave her a wide and earnest smile.

"It's nice to see you, Detective Beckett," Alexis replied.

"Nice to see you too. Thanks for letting me gatecrash tonight." Beckett sat down on the couch near the girl.

"You're always welcome here."

"That's what I keep telling her," Castle said in an exaggeratedly weary tone as he walked over to join them. He dropped into a nearby armchair, throwing a glance in Beckett's direction before winking at his daughter. "I think she only comes over to see _you_."

Beckett grinned, and Alexis shrugged extravagantly, as if to say _What did you expect?_

"Well, she sees _you_ at work all the time," the girl said, teasingly, and Castle nodded.

"Gets sick of seeing me, you mean," he quipped. He was focused on Alexis, so he didn't notice Beckett's smile faltering.

She opened her mouth to respond, but then they all heard a knock at the door, and Castle sprang up.

Alexis gave Beckett a curious look, but neither of them said anything.

* * *

Beckett glanced at her wristwatch, and saw with surprise that it was well after 10PM. They had made it through two episodes of _Temptation Lane_, and a terrible Adam Sandler movie, and beside her Alexis was stifling another yawn.

Three wine glasses sat on the large coffee table in front of them. Castle was flicking aimlessly through TV channels with a contented smile on his face. The images appeared and disappeared rapidly, and the sound was muted. The news. An ad, probably for laundry detergent. A talk show. An old movie, where Bill Murray seemed to be a television executive. An episode of Friends. Another ad.

"I think I need an early night," Alexis said at last, scooting forward on the couch and stretching like a cat.

Castle glanced over at his daughter, and smiled at her as she stood up.

"Goodnight, Detective Beckett," Alexis said, and Beckett also smiled at the girl.

"'Night, Alexis," she replied.

Alexis padded over to Castle's armchair and leaned down to embrace him.

"Goodnight, pumpkin," he said, wrapping his arms around her. "Sweet dreams."

"'Night, dad," she replied, then she wandered over to the stairs and quickly ascended. They heard her bedroom door click shut a few moments later.

"Just can't keep up with her old man," he said, and Beckett arched an eyebrow at him.

"She's just not as used to the wine, Castle," she replied, and he tilted his head in agreement, pressing a button on the remote control to switch the TV off.

There was a moment of silence, then Beckett sighed.

"I should probably be going," she said, and he looked over at her again in surprise.

"You should at least finish your drink first," he said. Both of their wine glasses were still half full. "It _is_ Friday night."

She considered his words. She wasn't looking forward to returning to her empty apartment, and she was comfortable here.

"OK," she said simply, and he smiled.

"So, plans for tomorrow?" Castle asked, picking up his wine glass and swirling the dark red liquid around.

Beckett shrugged. "I'm on call. No real plans. Laundry, housework. My apartment is like a bomb site."

She saw the flicker of tension across his face, and belatedly realised what she'd said. It had taken weeks for him to relax again after her previous apartment had been destroyed.

_After he ran into a burning building to find me._

Castle nodded and took a large sip of wine, lost in his own thoughts for a moment. She watched him.

He was always there. Always answered her calls, and always opened his door when she knocked.

_At her apartment. With Lockwood. In the hangar. At the funeral._

And sometimes it was just him.

_The bank._

She reached out and picked up her wine glass.

"You were wrong before, you know," she said quietly, and he looked up at her. "I don't get tired of seeing you."

He fastened onto her meaning immediately, his sharp mind effortlessly recalling the conversation and context. He held her gaze for just a moment before looking down at the coffee table.

He opened his mouth, and her pulse quickened, but then he closed it again and gave her a disarming smile that never reached his eyes.

"Just kidding around with Alexis," he said.

The clock was loud in the silences.

_Tick, tock._

"I know," she replied. She took a sip of wine before continuing. "But you kind of believe it too."

His eyes were on her again, searching and assessing. She could almost see his train of thought.

A few moments passed. She expected him to deny what she'd said, because that's what he'd usually do. Make a joke. Defuse the tension. But he didn't. Instead, he just looked away again.

Maybe it was the lateness of the hour, or the time they'd spent together today, or the wine.

_Or because he knows something's different_.

"Can I ask you something?" he said, still not looking at her, and she sat up a little straighter on the couch.

"If I can ask _you_ something," she replied.

He gestured towards her. "Ladies first."

_Always the gentleman_.

She took a deep breath, then looked him in the eye with a confidence she didn't feel.

"Have you heard from that woman you met?"

He blinked, clearly thrown.

"Woman?" he asked, and she shifted position slightly.

"From your publisher. At the elevator. She gave you her number."

Understanding dawned on his face, and it was quickly replaced with confusion.

"I… no. I never called her, like I said. She doesn't have my number."

_But she's going to get it_, she thought. _You can count on that._

She felt a little out of control. This was so unlike her, but then the last week or so had been the most bizarre and alarming experience she could remember.

"Oh," she said.

"What's this about, Kate?" he asked, with both caution and curiosity in his tone. There was something else there too, beneath the surface. Something held in check, and controlled only with great difficulty.

"I just wanted to know," she replied, then took another sip of wine.

Castle looked at her, waiting to see if she was going to continue. When it became clear that she wasn't, he set his glass down on the coffee table.

"Why?" he asked, his voice quiet and non-confrontational, but his tone making it clear he wasn't ready to drop the subject.

_Well, Kate? Why did you want to know?_ a voice in her mind said, and again she shifted on the couch.

"I just…" she began, but then she hesitated, feeling her cheeks flush. This was dangerous territory. Castle was still looking at her.

"I don't think you should see her, that's all."

Now his eyebrows lifted.

"I'm _not_ seeing her," he replied, confused, and she dropped her gaze.

_This is a bad idea_, she thought.

_Still forging that chain, Beckett?_ Montgomery's voice whispered in her mind, and she shivered.

"Well… good," she said at last, inwardly cringing at how lame it had sounded.

There was silence for almost a minute, and just when she was starting to think he was letting her get away with it, he spoke again.

"I talked to her for maybe sixty seconds," he said. "She gave me her number. That was it. I don't know anything about her."

_Yet_, she thought.

"And _you've_ never met her…" he continued.

_Don't be so sure of that, Castle._

"…so can you tell me what's going on here?"

She almost wished that he'd show his frustration – lose his temper, or be unreasonable.

_Then you could walk away, like always_, the voice in her mind said, and her stomach twisted.

But Castle was being uncharacteristically calm and reasonable. He knew something was wrong.

"It's none of my business," she said, and he sighed.

"Kate, you're being really strange lately. Some of it's been… nice. Like lunch last weekend."

_Even just that simple little thing. I want that so much. Just to touch you._

"But now you're scaring me a little. So, come on, put me out of my misery. Whatever it is, I'm here. You know that. Always."

She felt the conflict within herself. He was only a few feet away. They were alone. Maybe…

But then the familiar fears rose up. Too much to lose. He could be taken from her any day without warning, at any moment, and she knew what that felt like.

An image of the shadow-city flitted through her mind, its spires dark against a sky that was always moonlit behind unbroken clouds.

"I'm OK," she said. "I promise. I don't even know why I said it."

"Don't you?" His voice was barely above a whisper now. The clock marked time in the background. She cradled her wine in both hands, looking into it as if there were answers to be found there.

"Isn't it enough that I asked?" she said quietly, running her thumb back and forth against the translucent stem of the glass.

Castle swallowed silently. He felt like he'd skipped ahead a few pages in a book, and was no longer sure what was happening.

When he didn't respond for a few seconds, she looked up at him. He was still staring at her, his face showing a complex mix of emotions, but most of all bewilderment. She couldn't help but give a small smile. His expression softened.

"You're not making this easy," he said.

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm… no good at this."

He huffed, but there was no annoyance in it. When he spoke, his voice was gentle, but still hesitant. "I don't even know which _this_ we're talking about."

"Now who's not making it easy?" she replied, but he didn't smile.

He rubbed his hand over his eyes, suddenly weary. These verbal tennis matches had been going on for years.

"It's more than just Christmas this time, isn't it?" he asked, and she looked down at the wine glass again. After a moment, she nodded.

"But… you're not… ready to talk about that yet." His voice made it clear that it wasn't a question, but she shook her head anyway.

She heard him exhale, and she also heard the fatigue in it.

"I'm trying," she said quickly. "I know I'm not making a lot of sense."

She looked up at him, searching for the right words, but none were forthcoming.

"But I'm here," she said at last.

_That's a start_, Royce's voice whispered in her mind.

He held her gaze for several long moments, then eventually he tilted his head, even though he wasn't sure what he was acknowledging.

"You're here," he replied thoughtfully.


	20. Chapter 20

_**Author's note: I was too tired the other night to write the final scene of Beckett's Friday evening, so here it is with the beginning of Saturday's events.**_

_**Scrooge didn't fully get the point until Christmas Day dawned, and it seems that Beckett still has her doubts and barriers. Fate can intervene at the worst times.**_

_**Four days to go. Tick, tock.**_

* * *

It was almost 11PM, and the conversation had tailed off.

Both wine glasses sat empty on the coffee table. Castle had offered her another, but she declined.

He hadn't pressed her further on her unusual behaviour and questions, seeming to sense that she was struggling to be more open with him, and couldn't be rushed.

She glanced over at him. He was staring into the distance, eyes unfocused, clearly deep in thought. He hadn't spoken in a couple of minutes.

"I think it's time for me to go," she said, and he glanced over at her, blinking to refocus.

"Sorry," he said. "I zoned out there. I'm not being great company."

"We're both just tired," she replied, then she stood up. She gave him a small smile then headed over towards the entranceway, hearing his footsteps behind her.

Castle passed her and made it to the coat rack first, picked up her coat then stepped around behind her. She slid her arms through it as he draped the garment over her shoulders. It was a familiar dance. He did it most days at the precinct too; one of a precious few indulgences she allowed him in public.

She fastened her coat slowly, knowing he was watching her.

"Thanks for coming over," he said. "You're always welcome here, like Alexis said."

She looked up at him, letting her gaze roam over his face for a moment before she replied.

"I know. Thanks for inviting me."

He smiled.

She was about to turn towards the door when he quickly spoke again, his voice still quiet in deference to the hour.

"Kate, I wish I knew what was going on with you."

She sighed. _Me too_, she thought. _But I don't_.

"Just… let me get my thoughts together, OK?" she said. "It's been a long week. We can talk some more soon."

He just nodded, but she could see he wasn't satisfied with the answer.

"I'll be here," he said. There was a weariness to it that made her pulse quicken again. She grasped for something to say.

"I… I'm just starting to think that… I need to make some changes in my life. I'm still figuring it out."

His brow creased. "What kind of changes?"

A church bell tolled in the distance, and she flinched, then pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. His frown deepened.

"Just… give me some time," she said.

He had no idea what to think. She wasn't making sense, but he was very used to having to wait for her. He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off.

"And I _know_ I always make you wait. I'm sorry. I don't want to. Just… please be patient for a little longer."

She was looking up at him with her large, dark eyes, and for the first time he noticed that she was genuinely afraid.

_Afraid of telling me something_, he thought. But there was no use in pushing her. He'd already tried tonight, and he knew that sooner or later her temper would flare.

"Take all the time you need," he said earnestly. "And whenever you want to talk…"

"I know," she said. "And thanks."

She looked at him again, her emotions close to the surface.

"Thanks for… always just being… you."

She impulsively leaned in towards him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, her lips lingering there for just a fraction longer than necessary, then she stepped over to the door and opened it.

"Goodnight, Castle," she said in a small voice, unable to stop herself looking back over at him. His eyes were stormy, and he was breathing very deliberately. His lips were slightly parted, and she could see the longing in his gaze.

"Goodnight, Kate," he said, his voice rough.

She hesitated for one more moment, then she stepped out into the hallway and pulled the door closed behind her.

* * *

The sun was just beginning to climb above the lowest rooftops, but Castle had been awake for a while.

He had slept fitfully, waking up often from dreams where he was trying to find something, or hurrying to keep an appointment that he was already late for. Typical stress nightmares.

But then there were the other images.

Beckett with her arm linked through his. Beckett holding his hand between both of hers, in the kitchen area of the loft. Beckett pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, and lingering for a moment, as the air was filled with the scent of cherries.

In every case, the scene had played out exactly as it had actually happened during the past few days, and then he'd woken up abruptly, his breathing heavy and his pulse thudding in his chest. The cycle repeated through the night.

After he saw the first light of dawn filtering through the blinds, he reluctantly got up, knowing there would be no more sleep tonight. He used the bathroom, but decided against having a shower just yet, instead wandering through to his office, and then to the living room. The whole loft was silent.

Martha was away for another two days, and Alexis always slept in on weekends. She probably wouldn't be up until after 9AM. His gaze fell on the coffee table, where two empty wine glasses still sat. He'd completely forgotten to clear them away last night.

_Maybe she's made some progress with her mother's case_, he thought, but it just didn't ring true. She'd be more driven; more energised. And the last thing she'd ever be was _scared_, as she'd seemed to be last night. He frowned, as he reached the coffee table and picked up the two slender pieces of moulded glass.

All of his dreams flitted through his mind out of order, cycling faster and faster until it was just a blur of her hands and her eyes and her scent, then he forced himself to stop thinking about it all. Something was wrong, and it was his responsibility to figure out what it was. She even wanted him to, unless he was very much mistaken.

There had been plenty of occasions in the past when she'd seemed to reach out to him, but then she'd always step back again, just out of reach. A gesture, then a withdrawal. Words, and then silence. A touch, and then the sudden coldness of her absence. One step forward and two steps back, and the only clues he had to go on were vague and infrequent.

The trouble was that it was all subtext. A glance here, and the brush of a hand there. Riddles and misunderstandings, with aborted half-conversations as they danced endlessly around each other. It had been that way for years now.

_Got to stop doing this to yourself, Rick_, he thought. _She's extraordinary, but everybody has to walk away eventually._ _It's not been just about the books in a long time, but it's not going anywhere either._

Even if she _was_ being a little more open lately, her motives were still mysterious. The wall was still there - and now she had something else on her mind too. Like there wasn't already enough about her that puzzled him.

Most of his novels raised fewer questions than she did on the average day.

_My life is ticking by too, Kate_, he thought. _My daughter will leave the nest soon enough, and I don't plan to be alone for the rest of my life._

Eventually, he dragged himself from his brooding for long enough to take the wine glasses to the dishwasher, and he began preparing the coffee machine for its first brewing of the day. The task was so familiar that he did it mechanically, and his mind quickly drifted back to its previous train of thought.

Lots of women approached him, and gave him their numbers, and even propositioned him. He knew he was an attractive man, and he could see that they always noticed him. It was almost an everyday occurrence, even during chance encounters on the street, or in coffee shops, or just about anywhere. Most were content to just look, but plenty walked right up and started a conversation.

_Like that Stephanie woman_, he thought, frowning again at Beckett's interest in her.

He sighed, running his fingers across the worktop. It was all too tempting to jump to the obvious conclusion, but he knew it was his own wishful thinking rather than reason.

Kate Beckett really didn't do jealousy.

"Life used to be a lot simpler," he muttered to himself, knowing it was a hopeless sentiment. He didn't have a choice. He didn't let himself have one. He cared about her, and that was all there was to it.

_But I'm damned if I'm going to spin my wheels for the whole weekend_, he thought. _She wanted more time. Well, she's had eight hours._

He was feeling suddenly stubborn, and weary in a way that went beyond sleep. He felt the tiredness of years of uncertainty. He'd had his fill of too many questions.

It was time to go and get some answers.


	21. Chapter 21

_Four days_, Beckett thought, stepping out the front door of her building into the morning sunlight.

She had wakened early that morning, pushed from sleep abruptly by dream images of Castle waiting at the front of a church, and a veiled woman in a long, white dress walking down the aisle towards him. Beckett had sat at the back, beside her mother and father, both of whom looked on sadly.

There had been no visitation last night. She knew that another one was coming, and the waiting was starting to get to her. She was also struggling with the timetable that seemed to have been set for her.

_OK, so I need to do something about Castle_, she thought, dodging past a pair of women both pushing strollers and deep in conversation with each other.

She was on her way to the small coffee shop just a block or so from her apartment building, to pick up some breakfast. As usual, she had nothing in the fridge, and she hadn't yet decided what she was going to do with her Saturday.

_Let's say Stephanie does text him on Christmas Day, and he calls her, and they arrange to see each other. It's just coffee._

But she knew she was lying to herself. She knew that things were somehow coming to a head. He still said "always", and he was still there, but she'd stood in his apartment on a morning that was still four days in the future, and heard his daughter tell him he should move on.

She'd stood beside the table in a bistro a full week from now, and watched him make a confession about how he'd hoped something would happen between them.

_But I'm coming around to the idea that it probably won't._

He was preparing to pull away, and she'd given him 365 reasons per year to do it. Her stomach clenched, and she felt her pulse quicken again.

"You're making a mess of everything," she muttered to herself, just as she reached the coffee shop.

She emerged five minutes later with a paper bag of pastries and a large to-go cup of coffee. She sipped the hot liquid tentatively as she weaved through the sea of pedestrians, focusing so much on not dropping her purchases that she barely saw anything else around her.

She was barely a hundred yards from her building when she heard the familiar voice behind her.

"Kate?"

She stopped abruptly and turned round, and it took her a moment to realise who had called her name.

"Josh," she said. "Hi. Wow. How are you?"

Josh smiled at her, only a little uncomfortably. "I'm great. How have you been?" He was also holding a tall coffee cup, though it didn't bear the same logo as hers.

She nodded, returning the smile and self-consciously juggling the coffee and paper bag. "You know… good. I'm good."

There was a pause.

"So what brings you to this neck of the woods?" she asked, cringing a little at how it sounded.

Josh adjusted his stance a little. "Oh. The bike's in the shop. I'm on my way to pick it up."

_Of course_. She had actually introduced him to the mechanic that she also used. His garage was two blocks further down, and one block over. The nearest subway station was only a few minutes' walk away. It was a one-in-a-million chance that she'd bump into him today, but fate had been strange lately.

"Do you still get out?" he asked, and she blinked in confusion for a moment. _Is he asking me… oh_.

"I've not had the bike out in a while," she replied. "Work, you know."

She may have flushed slightly. It was a sore point between them.

"Well, I'm going right past your door. Walk with you?"

His offer was genuine, but she still hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Sure."

There were a few seconds of silence as they began to walk, then he asked her something inane about keeping the city safe, and she gave a non-commital answer. It was awkward, but it was also familiar. They reached her building quickly.

"This is me," she said, again mentally berating herself. He knew very well where she lived. He'd seen every inch of her apartment.

_And of me_, she thought randomly, unsure how she felt about it.

"Listen, Kate, it was good to see you. I mean that," he said, and for a moment she saw the tender man that he could sometimes be – that he sometimes _had_ been with her.

"You too," she said, returning the smile he'd given her. "I hope everything's going well for you."

He nodded. "No complaints. Work is… work. And I'm… with someone. For a while now. It's good. For both of us, I think."

She was a little surprised to find that she was actually happy for him.

"I'm glad," she said, and he could see that she meant it.

"Well, I won't ask you to say hi to Castle for me, but for what it's worth, I liked his last book. Nikki Heat is a piece of work."

She flushed, and only tilted her head in agreement.

He paused for a moment, as if he was considering telling her something, then he shrugged. "You know, I actually told Claire - that's my girlfriend - about Castle's nickname for me."

Beckett's mouth dropped open. "How did you–?"

He laughed. "Kate, I _heard_ him. About fifteen times. And Claire thought it was damned funny. She even calls me _Doctor Motorcycle Boy_ sometimes."

She burst out laughing, unable to stop herself. It was such a typically Castle nickname to give the man she had been dating at the time, simultaneously acknowledging that he felt threatened, but also calling names like an eight year old.

Suddenly, she desperately missed her partner, her friend, and the man who was soon going to close the door on what he'd patiently been waiting for since they first met.

"It's… one of his better ones, I've got to admit," she said, her tone tinged with wistfulness.

Josh saw the look in her eyes, and his own smile faded slightly.

_Incredible_, he thought. _They still haven't figured it out_.

"Take care of yourself, Kate," he said. "And… it's none of my business, but… maybe think about letting him take care of you too, OK?"

She looked up at him, and sighed. After a moment, she nodded twice, quickly.

He gave her one last small smile, and then walked away.

Beckett pushed open the door of her building and then went inside. She didn't look back.

* * *

Castle told the driver to pull over a few blocks early, to give himself a chance to think while he walked the rest of the way. Being impulsive was one thing, but it was always worth at least giving his better judgement a chance to speak.

_So what's the game plan?_

Knock on her door. Ask if he could come in. Tell her he was worried about her, and he needed to know what was going on. Threaten to be even more annoying than usual if she wouldn't tell him?

_Or, you could just turn around and go home, and leave well enough alone_, his mind suggested. He frowned.

"I'm a man of action," he said to himself, drawing a brief, worried look from a elderly woman who was walking past. He gave her an apologetic smile and then averted his eyes and he continued on down the avenue.

Beckett's building was a couple of blocks away, on the opposite side.

_This is a stupid move_, his mind cautioned, and again he pushed the warning away. A night's sleep hadn't helped dampen the tension in him, particularly since she had filled his dreams. _Something_ was going on. Something was strange. Something was changing.

_That's what she said_, he thought. _I'm starting to think I need to make some changes in my life._

And she had looked scared. Then she'd thanked him for always being himself, whatever that meant.

"If you've got something to say, Kate, I think I deserve to–"

His pace faltered, and he came to a stop. A jogger almost collided with him, dashing past with a glance of irritation, but Castle didn't notice.

Beckett was there. Walking along the sidewalk, on the other side of the avenue, on the very next block up.

He frowned at the coincidence of it, and he was about to raise his hand to shout, despite knowing she'd never hear him, when he realised she was with someone.

He squinted slightly, then the surrounding flow of people eased slightly, and he saw.

_That's… Doctor… it's Josh_.

He felt untethered for a moment. Unfastened in time. The day was very bright, and the omnipresent honking of car horns and the hubbub of a thousand voices seemed to fade a little.

And then it all fell into place.

This time, the images marched through his mind in a calm, orderly procession that was almost military in its precision. Just like his dreams, she was in every one of them – but they were all real.

_Maybe I should, Castle, if I ever want to read that new book._

_Thank you for the coffee. Not just today._

_We do need you here. I do. Maybe I don't tell you that enough._

_I don't get tired of seeing you._

He watched as Beckett and Josh walked along together, coffees and a bag of something in hand, towards her building.

They stopped, still talking.

Josh said something.

Beckett burst out laughing.

_I need to make some changes in my life._

_I know I always make you wait. I'm sorry. I don't want to._

_Thanks for… always just being… you._

His breath plumed out in front of him in the cold air, and then he turned away.

_Answers_, he thought. _Seek and ye shall find._

It was all so obvious.

She was back together with Josh. She knew how he felt about her, and so she knew how he'd react. She probably even knew that he was worn down with waiting for her.

All the little gestures and reassurances all of a sudden.

_Doesn't want to make me wait_.

But she didn't want to lose him as a friend, either. Or as… a backup option.

_We do need you here. Maybe I don't tell you that enough._

In a strange way, it was a relief that it had finally happened. God knows he'd been half-expecting it.

_If you can't have what you want–_

"–then it's time to want something else."

He took two deep breaths of icy air that felt like needles piercing his lungs. He blinked twice, three times, four times.

Then he slowly began to walk.


	22. Chapter 22

_**Author's note: Sorry for the delay. More than fifty reviews overnight for the previous chapter – I think that might be a new record. Most of you welcomed the angsty twist, and it's too soon for things to be resolved in the Christmas Carol timeline.**_

_**It took them four years to figure it out on the show, so I think we can wait a little longer here too. Scrooge's story always has a happy ending.**_

_**Thanks so much for reading.**_

* * *

Beckett deposited the bag of pastries and her coffee cup on the kitchen table, along with the newspaper that had been waiting outside her door when she returned.

She took her phone out of her pocket, looked at it for a moment, then set it down too.

_Josh._

It was a bizarre coincidence, but she somehow felt both better and worse after bumping into him.

Better because she discovered that she was glad he had found someone, and she was even more glad to know for certain that she felt no regrets about the end of their relationship, and that he didn't seem to be harbouring any either.

Worse because here was another man that had previously been with her, and now had found a stable relationship with someone else.

_And somebody else who saw what's between Castle and I better than I did._

She removed the lid from her coffee cup and discarded it on the table, then took a scalding mouthful of the black liquid, relishing the burning sensation as it slid down. Right on cue, her stomach rumbled, and she grabbed a pastry from the bag, biting into it while replaying the conversation with Josh.

_Castle would find it hilarious that his nickname stuck_, she thought, allowing herself a smile. It faded a moment later.

They had left things at an awkward point last night. She had wanted to say something, but… what?

_The wall_, she thought. _If that's even a real thing anymore._

"I should call him," she said to the empty apartment.

The apartment didn't respond.

"Yeah. I should call him."

She picked up her phone, then set it down. A few seconds later, she picked it up again, unlocked it, launched the Phone app, and tapped the name _Castle_.

One ring. Two. Three.

Five. A small frown.

Ten rings. Tension began to spread through her chest.

She let it get to fourteen rings before she ended the call, then lowered the phone from her ear and stared at it.

_That's unusual_, she thought.

He always answered. Even if he was fast asleep, it took him a maximum of five rings. And he was never, ever without his phone.

_He'll definitely be up by now. He always answers, in case it's a body drop. And he knows I'm on call._

Possibilities flitted through her mind. Maybe he was… in the shower. Or his phone battery was dead. Or he'd dropped the phone into the toilet, and the _phone_ was dead.

But he had other phones. And if he was going to be out of contact for any length of time, he'd have texted her from Alexis's phone to let her know.

Maybe he was with someone. That didn't bear thinking about.

She was gripped by indecision.

_Try calling him again? Or Alexis?_

But she couldn't do that.

_Why not?_ her mind asked.

_Because it'd seem… needy._

_And don't you?_ her mind replied.

"Don't I what?"

_Need him._

She stood perfectly still, each heartbeat seeming very loud in the quiet of her apartment.

Only the clock on the wall was louder.

_Tick, tock_.

That was the question, wasn't it? But the answer was simple.

"Of course I do," she whispered.

She was startled by her phone chirping, and she almost dropped the device. The green message banner said _Castle_. She quickly unlocked it, and read the message.

_**Sorry I missed your call. Can you handle this one without me?**_

She frowned. That really wasn't like him. Her intuition also told her that he wanted to talk via text, instead of a call.

She tapped out a reply, and sent it.

_**There's no case. Just checking in, seeing what your plans were for the weekend. Thanks for last night.**_

She took another bite of her pastry, nervous energy coursing through her.

His reply came within a minute.

_**That's what friends are for. I'm working all weekend - got a little behind on the book. See you Monday.**_

She felt ice settle into the pit of her stomach. There were warning signs all through the brief message.

Friends. Making himself unavailable for the entire weekend. She'd given him a wide open opportunity to ask what _her_ plans were, or to suggest something, but he did neither. Explicitly saying he wouldn't see her until the following week. And he never let his writing keep him from seeing her, or socialising, or doing just about anything.

Panic rose up in her, and she typed the first thing that came into her head.

_**Hope you're not planning to get rid of Nikki!**_

She hesitated for only a moment before sending it, then she set the phone down on the counter. She glanced at the half-eaten pastry, but she had lost her appetite.

She stood there for more than ten minutes, but no reply came.

* * *

Thirty-six hours had passed with excruciating slowness.

Beckett paced around her apartment, glancing at the clock every few minutes. It was after 10PM on Sunday evening. When midnight arrived, there would be two days remaining until Christmas.

Castle had been as good as his word, and had barely been in touch the whole weekend. She'd sent another text to him on Saturday evening, asking how the writing was going, but his reply was brief, saying he was spending the rest of the evening with Alexis while Martha was out of town.

She had spent a lonely evening in front of the TV, periodically glancing at the clock. When midnight arrived, she sat tensely for more than ten minutes before deciding to go to bed. Sleep came eventually.

When she woke up on Sunday morning, she checked her phone, but she still had no messages or calls. Several times, she had almost sent him a message, but something held her back. She had a weak moment just after lunch and actually called him, but she hung up after eight rings. There had been no follow-up message from him this time.

Now it was evening again, she hadn't seen him in almost two days, and time was ticking away.

_I can't believe this_, she thought. _Of all the times for him to go silent._

She paused in her pacing to look out a window at the lights of the city.

_Did he finally get tired of waiting, just all of a sudden?_

She couldn't think of a reason for that, but then she'd kept him hanging around for years now. He had to break sometime.

_Is he angry with me about something?_

But there was nothing that she could think of that she'd done.

_Maybe I shouldn't have kissed him the other night_.

But it was only on the cheek. And they'd had a few moments lately, at her initation. She was _trying_.

"Why is this happening now?"

She stalked across to her kitchen table in frustration and grabbed her phone, tapping out a message and sending it before she could second-guess herself.

* * *

Castle glanced up as he heard his phone chirp. He was sitting at his desk, staring at a blank white screen on his laptop with a blinking cursor. It hadn't been a productive weekend.

He picked up his iPhone and unlocked it to read the message. It was from Beckett, just as he'd expected.

_**Are we OK?**_

He shut his eyes. _I'm kind of surprised it took her this long to ask._

She knew he wouldn't ignore a direct question, because they had their veneer to maintain. Their carefully-constructed illusion, where she pretended not to know he was in love with her, and he pretended not to know that _she_ knew.

_God I'm tired_, he thought, and he truly meant it. All the same, his heart went out to her as usual.

He chose to shadow her. He chose to go in, day after day. He was a grown man, and nobody but himself was keeping him there. He didn't choose to fall in love with her, but she certainly didn't choose for that to happen either.

Only a neanderthal would think that a person could ever _owe_ affection to another, no matter how devoted that other had been. That just wasn't how it worked. Ultimately, he had brought this situation about on his own.

_And she's had a tough life_.

She drove herself so hard. Her mother's death and the ongoing investigation took so much out of her. It had doomed a whole series of relationships. She was a beautiful, driven, strong and talented woman – and yet she had spent much of her adult life alone.

She didn't owe him anything, but she did deserve happiness. If she could find it by giving Josh another chance, then so be it. Or maybe with some other man, further down the line.

_Just… enough, now_, he thought. _Let it go._

The need. The longing. The wondering. The waiting.

And the hope.

_Let. It. Go._

He took a deep, cleansing breath, then opened his eyes.

The world looked the same as ever, and he knew it wasn't quite that simple. It would take time – lots of it – and there would be some long, wakeful nights ahead. There would be pain. But pain fades.

He had pushed into her life, made himself her partner, and she had grown to accept him. She'd even let the two of them become friends. Right now, she seemed to need him as a friend most of all.

_And that's what we'll be._

He looked down at the phone, and saw that its screen had switched off while he was lost in his thoughts. He woke it up again, and began to type.

"New year, new start," he said, typing for a few more seconds, then he sent the message.

* * *

Beckett was almost surprised to get a reply, and again she felt a whisper of panic at the fact.

She quickly brought the message up on her phone's screen.

_**Of course. Sorry, just been really busy. Everything OK with you?**_

She read the message twice, her eyes scanning rapidly over the words, trying to extract more meaning than was there. After a moment, she typed out a quick reply.

_**Can I call you?**_

Less than thirty seconds passed before the phone began ringing in her hand. She swiped the screen to answer the call, and lifted the device to her ear.

"_Hey_," Castle said. His tone was neutral, and she hesitated briefly before answering.

"Hi," she replied. "It's… good to hear your voice."

There was a pause.

"_Is everything OK?_"

"I think so. Yeah."

Another pause.

"_You don't sound sure. Has something happened?_" He sounded concerned now, and her anxiety decreased a little.

"I just… got a little worried this weekend. You kind of disappeared on me, after the other night."

She heard him sigh, and she knew he was about to speak. For some reason, she felt the need to delay him, so she spoke again without knowing what she was going to say.

"It's weird because your name came up the next day, on Saturday. I was out buying breakfast and I bumped into Josh, of all people. Can you believe it? His bike was in the shop."

Silence on the line.

"And, uh, he mentioned you," she said, holding her phone tightly.

"_Oh?_" She could hear both the control in his voice, and the tension underneath it.

"Yeah, he said he liked your last book. And then he said that he told his girlfriend that you called him _Doctor Motorcycle Boy_, and she calls him that now. I thought that was really funny."

More silence. After several long seconds, Castle spoke again.

"_Huh. That's… something._"

"Yeah. Really weird coincidence. He uses the same garage as me, a few blocks over. Just a one in a million chance he was walking from the subway to pick up his bike while I was out at the coffee shop."

A half-formed image swam through her mind, but she dismissed it immediately. There was no way that Castle could have known she'd spoken to Josh. She hadn't even mentioned it to Lanie.

"It was OK, actually. I mean, it wasn't too awkward. He seems happy, and I'm glad for him."

There was a tiny noise on the line, and she somehow knew that he was rubbing his hand across his face. Her pulse quickened again, unsure what was bothering him. She took a deep breath, then spoke softly.

"Castle… can you tell me what's going on? Please."

This time, the silence was so long that she had almost decided he wasn't going to answer – but then he did.

"_I owe you an apology, Kate_," he said, and both the words and the weariness in his voice scared her.

_He's with Stephanie already_, her mind chattered, but that couldn't be true. Surely it couldn't. Before she could speculate further, he spoke again; just three short words.

"_I was there._"

She struggled to make sense of the statement, and he seemed to sense her confusion.

"_Outside your building – actually across the street, down a block. I was coming to see you, to… demand answers, I guess._"

He laughed, and it was a bitter, joyless sound.

"_I just saw the two of you walking back to your place together, with coffee. You were laughing at something. I turned around. I just assumed…_"

He tailed off, but there was no need to elaborate further.

She was shocked. Her hand was clasped against her chest, and her breath whistled as she inhaled.

_Oh god_.

"Castle, no," she said. "Oh… no. That's not… I can't believe you thought… but of course you would. Of _course_ you would. I'm so sorry."

Silence on the line.

"I haven't seen him since we broke up. Until Saturday, I mean. We talked for maybe two minutes, total."

_He only talked to Stephanie for a minute_, her mind whispered.

"That's over. It's been over for a long time. So… is that why you've been working all weekend?"

A few moments of silence, and then his voice, sounding even more tired.

"_To be honest, I haven't got a whole of writing done._"

She wished they were in the same room.

_Oh, Castle. Why are we so bad at this?_

"I'm sorry," she said again, and this time his laugh had a little more life to it.

"_Not your fault,_" he replied. "_Just bad timing. That's us all over. And really it's none of my business._"

The remark caught her by surprise, and a tear squeezed out from the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek.

"I hate this," she said quietly. "I don't want it to be like this anymore."

The sound of his breathing stopped for at least five full seconds before resuming raggedly.

"_Mm,_" he grunted, and frustration welled up in her.

"Rick, listen to me," she said, standing up straight even though he couldn't see her. "Things have been changing between us for a while, haven't they?"

He didn't reply, but she could still hear him breathing, so she continued.

"They go one way then another. It's different every week. I don't even know what's going on anymore."

He breathed out. It was barely audible.

"I told you I wanted to make changes in my life. You really thought I meant _Josh_?"

She tried to make it sound amusing, but to her own ears it seemed like she was pleading with him.

"_I didn't know _what_ to think, Kate,_" he said quietly. "_Can you blame me?_"

Another tear slipped down her cheek. His comment was fair, and that was why it hurt.

"No," she replied. "And I know it's my fault."

"_It's not. If it's anybody's fault, it's mine. Or just… like I said. Bad timing. I'm not sure what's changing, but you're right. And I started it._"

She frowned, not understanding what he meant. "Started it?"

She immediately heard him blow out his breath in frustration.

"_This. The whole thing. Shadowing you. Pushing into your life. Making… this an issue. And I want you to know that I understand that now. I've got no right to–_"

"Castle, wait, please," she interrupted, and again there was an abrupt silence.

"I think I know what you're going to say, and you're _wrong_. I'm not running away, and I'm not asking you to back off!"

"_It's semantics. Two nights ago you asked me to be patient, and I shouldn't have put you in that position. I was too caught up in my own…_"

He tailed off, and she knew he was struggling to find the right words to downplay the thought.

"Feelings?" she suggested quietly, and it took several seconds for him to reply.

"_Maybe. Yes. But forget about all that, OK? We can just… forget about it._"

This time, her pulse actually seemed to slow, dropping to half its previous rate, and the edges of her vision closed in just a touch.

His tone was gentle, and self-effacing. He was clearly trying to appease her. He had no idea about the dread his words were stirring up in her. It took her a moment to realise he was still talking.

"_We'll get back to work tomorrow. Beckett and Castle, just like always, right? Partners._"

"Is that all I am to you now?"

Her voice was louder than she thought it would be, and it wavered dangerously. She suddenly felt very cold, and off-balance, like she was teetering on the edge of a precipice.

"_What? No. Of course not. We're… friends. You're… huh. You're actually my best friend, now that I think about it._"

He was silent for a moment as he contemplated this new realisation, then he continued.

"_I wasn't trying to upset you._"

She swallowed, but she still couldn't speak. The clock on the wall seemed to get louder, until it sounded like it was only the frontmost part of a much larger mechanism, embedded in the very walls.

_Tick, tock._

_Tick, tock._

"_You still there?_"

She swiped away a tear, and swallowed again.

"You're my best friend too," she replied.

"_That means a lot to me._"

She could hear the emotion in his voice, and again she wished they were talking face to face instead of over the phone. She took a steadying breath before speaking again.

"You have been for a long time. My partner, my best friend, my… Castle. I don't know what I'd do without that."

A few seconds of silence, then his voice.

"_You'll never need to find out, Kate. You know that._"

She smiled sadly. "There's just one problem."

This time the pause was much longer. She pressed the phone tightly against her ear until she heard his voice again. Controlled above, and tense below.

"_What's that?_"

She swore she could hear the clock in the loft, marking time in the background, in synchronisation with her own.

_Tick, tock._

Everything narrowed to just the barely-audible sound of his breathing on the line, and the thump of her pulse. When she spoke, it was with quiet finality.

"It's not enough anymore."


	23. Chapter 23

_**Author's note: A lengthy chapter to make up for another busy week.**_

_**The focus of any Christmas Carol tale is of course the period spanning Christmas Eve and Christmas Day; this chapter takes us up to just before that point in our story, which I'm very much looking forward to writing.**_

_**Thank you so much for reading.**_

* * *

Castle was aware that several seconds had passed in silence, but he couldn't think of anything to say.

He had no idea what she meant, but he knew that a threshold had been crossed. A line that couldn't be ignored. Their relationship had just changed, and the only question was what exactly it had changed into.

_The job isn't enough?_

_Our relationship isn't enough?_

_Having me in her life isn't enough?_

_I'm not enough?_

It could be any of those, and a few more besides. He'd even agree with some of the possibilities. She _should_ have more in her life than her work, and her quest.

_She should have somebody to care about her. Even if it's… someone else._

"_Castle?_"

Beckett's voice from the phone startled him, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Sorry," he replied. "I… thought you were going to continue."

"_Oh._"

Another brief pause, before he spoke again.

"What's not enough, Kate?"

* * *

Beckett licked her lips nervously, trying to put the words together. She glanced at the clock without consciously registering the time.

"I mean… us. You're my partner. You're my friend. This _thing_ we have, where we both keep circling around each other. But we're in the same place we were a year ago, even after everything that's happened. It's just… not enough for me anymore."

She sighed.

"I know it's been my fault. And you've been so patient. I don't even know why, but you have. I'm sorry I've kept you waiting."

She could still hear him breathing on the other end of the line, so she plunged onwards.

"I know you're getting tired of it. Of me. Being like this, I mean."

Another pause. He didn't contradict her, or speak at all.

"So I wanted to tell you… I've been thinking a lot lately, and I–"

A repeating tone interrupted her. For a split second, she wondered if she'd been cut off, but then her brain caught up and she recognised the sound.

_Another call coming in_.

"Damn it," she muttered.

"_Kate?_" he asked, and she closed her eyes.

"It's… I've got another call," she said, lifting the phone away from her ear to look at the screen. The alert banner read _Ryan_.

_You couldn't make this up_, she thought, tapping the speakerphone icon.

"God. I'm so sorry, Castle – just… give me a minute, OK? It's Ryan calling. I should just–"

"_It's OK,_" he said, and to his credit, it sounded like he meant it. "_Take the call, and see what's up. It's the job. I'll be here._"

"Thank you," she said, in a quiet voice. She hesitated for only a moment, then she tapped the button to accept the new call.

* * *

Castle heard the line pick up again less than a minute later.

"_Sorry_," she said again, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Body?" he asked, and he heard the weariness in her tone when she replied.

"_Two. I knew that a quiet on-call weekend was too good to be true._"

He nodded sympathetically, even though she couldn't see him.

"Where should I meet you?"

"_It's late. I know you've had a long couple of days, and you're picking up Martha tomorrow. Why don't you get some sleep, and I can call you in the morning?_"

"Kate," he said, in an carefully patient tone, "if you're there, I'm there. That's what partners do."

There was a brief pause.

"_Til the wheels fall off?_"

"Exactly," he replied, already walking over to pick up his coat.

"_OK,_" she said, sounding relieved. "_And thanks. I… want to finish our talk, once this is over._"

"I'd like that," he said. "Now where am I headed?"

She gave him the address, and he typed it into his phone's Notes app. He told her he'd meet her there in fifteen minutes, and they hung up.

He pulled his coat on, then crossed to the kitchen counter to leave a note for Alexis.

_Not enough anymore_, her voice said in his mind, and he frowned. The interruption was frustrating, but inevitable. The universe seemed to have a thing for keeping them from communicating.

"No time to worry about that now," he muttered to himself, doing one last check of his pockets. He had his wallet, keys, and his phone; those was three of the four things he'd need when he reached the scene, and he'd pick up the fourth on the way. There were plenty of 24-hour coffee places in the city.

With one last glance around the silent loft, he slipped quietly out the door.

Somewhere in the distance, a church bell tolled.

* * *

By the time noon arrived, everyone was exhausted. Most of the team had been awake for almost thirty hours.

The crime scene had been even more grim than usual. Two people in their twenties – one male and one female – had been gunned down in their vehicle, and then the car was set alight. The gasoline-fuelled fire had already been going for half an hour when the emergency services were called, and there had been enough damage to make identification challenging.

The remains of wallets, jewellery and mobile phones were all found, making violent robbery an unlikely motive. The male had been driving the car, apparently wearing casual clothes, and the female was the passenger, more smartly dressed in business attire. The only other identifiable things in the car were her jacket in the back seat, and what seemed like two incinerated pizza boxes, presumably their dinner.

The neighbourhood was relatively quiet and secluded, not known for anything like this. There was an independent school less than a mile away, and a lot of powerful people had woken up and started asking questions.

The investigation was progressing, but it took a while to put out the fire, make the scene safe, remove the bodies, and transport them to the morgue. Forensics also brought the vehicle in, and the analysis was still ongoing. Everyone had been called in, and no-one had slept last night.

Castle supplied coffee regularly, but his eyes were dull and he wasn't speaking very much. Beckett found herself zoning out more and more often, sometimes staring over at the shadow of stubble on his jawline.

He caught her staring once or twice, and offered a tentative and tired smile. The first time, she glanced quickly away, but the second time – when dawn was already colouring the sky outside the precinct – she just kept looking.

"Alright, people," Gates said as she walked out of her office, drawing the attention of everyone in the bullpen. "It's time to let the day shift take over."

She held up her hand to pre-emptively silence protests from Beckett and Esposito. "Just until you all get some rest. I don't want to see any of your team back here until this evening, Detective. You're no good to me if you start falling asleep at your desks."

Beckett frowned, but she knew the Captain was right. Esposito, Ryan and Castle were all looking to her for their cue, and she simply nodded. Gates tilted her head in approval then disappeared back into her office, closing the door behind her.

"You heard her. Everybody get some rest. We're back here at 7PM to sync up."

Castle stood up and took his blazer from the back of his chair, humming _It's the most wonderful time of the year_, and Beckett threw an exasperated look at him.

Esposito smiled, but the tough detective was too tired to muster a laugh. He snapped off a sloppy salute in Beckett's general direction, then he headed off towards the elevator, with a yawning Ryan following close behind.

"Share a cab?" Castle asked, holding her coat for her, and she nodded mutely as she stepped over and slid her arms into it.

"When does Martha land, again?"

"Six thirty," he replied. "I'll be a little late getting back here, but I should be with you by eight."

"Castle, your mother is just getting back after three–"

"Til the wheels fall off, Kate," he said quietly, cutting her off. "Everybody understands."

She looked at him for a long moment, but she was too tired to try arguing. She also found that she didn't really want him to stay home.

He raised an eyebrow at her in a silent question, but she just nodded towards the elevator. They both walked out of the bullpen without another word.

* * *

It was 8:12PM when Beckett heard the elevator's distinctive ping, followed by its doors opening. She looked up from her computer, and there he was. He held two cups, as always.

She'd gone home at lunchtime, eaten a cobbled-together brunch, then gone straight to bed. Her alarm woke her five hours later, and she quickly showered before heading into the precinct, picking up a sandwich on the way.

The catch-up had been brief but to the point. The two victims had been identified: the male's name was Gregory Stamp, and he had been employed delivering pizza in the evenings, to help fund his screenwriting course at a minor college. He was 23 years old. The female victim was his girlfriend, Elaine Spencer, 24 years old, and she was an apprentice paralegal. It was unclear why she had been accompanying him in his car the night before, but he had apparently been finishing up his deliveries for the night, as confirmed by his boss at the pizza place.

Seven bullets were recovered from the two victims and the vehicle. There was promise of a partial hand-print from the roof of the car, but forensics were still working on it. As of now, there was little else to go on. The killer, and his or her motive, remained a mystery.

Castle walked out of the elevator towards the bullpen, and Beckett watched him approach. He still looked tired and rumpled, but he had clearly had at least some sleep. There was some energy to his step, and his eyes were clear, even though they had bags under them.

_I probably look exactly the same_, she thought, not really caring because she knew that he wouldn't mind.

The taxi ride earlier had been silent, both of them too tired to speak. She could feel the pressure of their unfinished conversation looming over them, but both knew it wasn't the time to bring it up. When the cab arrived at her apartment, she'd turned to look at him, then she reached out and laid her hand on his forearm. His brow had furrowed ever so slightly, but he gave her a tired smile. Neither spoke, then she climbed out, and the taxi pulled swiftly away and disappeared. It felt like a lot more than eight hours ago.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, setting a to-go cup of coffee down in front of her and dropping into his chair. "What'd I miss?"

Beckett took a long and grateful sip of the hot liquid before looking over at him.

"Thanks for the coffee," she said, and he smiled, giving her a nod of recognition.

She paused, just long enough for that crease to appear on his brow again, then she glanced down at her desk then back up again.

"We got IDs on the vics," she said, tilting her head towards the nearby murder board. "No killer or motive. Maybe a partial from the car; we'll know soon. Day shift already canvassed the neighbourhood, and Tori is pulling CCTV. Lanie said time of death was probably around 9:30PM, but it's tough to be sure after the fire."

Castle nodded several times, taking in the new information, then he took a gulp of his own coffee.

"OK," he said at last. "What do you need me to do?"

_Wait for me_, she thought, and she was embarrassed to feel a flush in her cheeks.

She made a point of taking the lid off her coffee cup, but not before she'd seen the barest twitch of recognition and then puzzlement on his face. She cleared her throat and took another sip of coffee.

"Just… do your thing," she replied after a moment. "Go over what we've got. Tell us what we've missed. Give us a theory we can prove. What you always do."

He looked at her contemplatively for a moment, then he smiled.

"I'll do my best. Let's hope your faith in me is justified," he said genially, getting up and shrugging off his blazer to drape it over the back of his chair.

He picked up his coffee cup, and he was about to head over to the murder board when she spoke again.

"Did Martha get home OK?"

He nodded. "Yep. Flight was on time. I don't think she stopped to breathe the whole way back from the airport. Her sister is taking some kind of landscape painting class, and she has a new beau, and her hair is… I don't even remember that part. But you know my mother. She made it all sound very dramatic."

Beckett grinned. She knew exactly what Martha was like, and she could picture the gesticulation and the histrionics. She could even almost hear the sound of the older woman's voice, rising and falling as she injected flair, suspense, and sarcasm into even the most mundane news.

"I can imagine," she replied, and he rolled his eyes at her in mock weariness.

He gave her another smile, and then turned and walked over towards the murder board.

_Let's hope your faith in me is justified_, his voice said in her mind.

"It always has been," she said quietly. Her gaze lingered on him for a few moments more, then she reluctantly returned her attention to the case file in front of her.

* * *

Once again, midnight approached. The precinct was still almost as busy as it had been twelve hours earlier.

The phone on Beckett's desk rang, and she grabbed it immediately. Castle, Esposito and Ryan looked over from their place at the murder board.

"Beckett," she said, then she listened for a few seconds.

"I'm too tired to guess, Lanie. How about you just tell me?"

A longer period of silence as she listened. She glanced up at Castle, and he raised an eyebrow, but she just turned away again, cradling the phone more tightly against her ear.

"Really?"

More silence. And then she grinned.

The three men exchanged looks and began walking slowly over towards Beckett's desk, not saying anything.

"Thanks, Lanie," she said, then she hung up, before swivelling her chair around to face them.

"So?" Esposito asked, folding his arms, and she only looked at him for a moment before focusing her gaze on Castle.

"_So_, Lanie did what you asked, Castle."

The barest trace of a smug grin began playing around his lips, and the blinked exaggeratedly a couple of times. "Oh?" he said.

"She said they wouldn't usually prioritise the chargrilled pizza boxes in a shooting, but you'll never guess what turned up when she tested what was left of their dinner."

"Is it too late to place bets?" he replied, and she rolled her eyes.

Ryan frowned, looking from Castle to Beckett. "Wait, you think… there were drugs in there?"

"There _were_ drugs in there," Beckett said. "A whole lot of crystal meth. And, again like Castle suggested–" she gave him a look of acknowledgement, and he bowed slightly "–we got uniforms to check with the customers on his delivery list. Everybody got their pizza, and the pizza place didn't give him any extra to take home last night."

"He was a drug mule," Esposito said. "That's a dangerous job."

"The kind that can get you shot," Beckett replied.

"So where does that leave us?" Ryan asked, running a hand through his hair absent-mindedly.

"Lanie also said that forensics got a hit on the partial. An enforcer from the Fonseca Cartel called Lope Abaroa. Two-time loser, too. The details are in the printer."

"Now we're talkin'," Esposito said, spinning on his heel and striding off towards the big laser printer halfway down the bullpen.

"Get an APB out, and pull together everything we have about where this guy might be," Beckett said to Ryan, and the young detective nodded.

"On it," Ryan replied, and headed off in the same direction as his partner.

Castle was now leaning against a pillar, with his hands in his pockets. His hair was sticking up at the back, and he looked pleased with himself. Some of the tension had gone from his shoulders.

"Would you think less of me if I told you I was just hungry before, and wanted to know what was on the pizza?" he quipped, and she actually laughed out loud.

_Woah_, Castle thought. That wasn't like her. A wry smirk, or a roll of the eyes: absolutely. A sarcastic comment: usually. But an out-and-out laugh, especially in the bullpen?

_That's… rare. But I guess we're all pretty tired._

"You know what they say, Castle," she replied, "it's better to be lucky than smart."

He winced, then mimed pulling an arrow slowly from his chest, but he didn't even try to suppress his grin. This was more like it. Their usual banter.

Her own grin faltered after a few moments, and then softened. He saw her looking up at him, with the same look she'd had on her face in the cab earlier, and he briefly wondered if she was going to resume their conversation from last night, even though they were in the middle of the precinct.

She opened her mouth then closed it again, glancing around the bullpen self-consciously.

_It's never the right time. Or the right place_, she thought.

As if on cue, she heard a church bell tolling in the distance, and she shivered.

"Christmas Eve," Castle said quietly. Her eyes snapped up to meet his, but he was looking at his wristwatch. It was just seconds after midnight.

"I've got to find time later to finish getting the loft ready for tomorrow," he added, running his hand through his hair for the fiftieth time that evening.

"We've got a lead on a suspect, and you gave us something that probably points to motive," she said. "You should go home, get a proper night's sleep. This guy has probably gone to ground, and–"

She was interrupted by Esposito's and Ryan's abrupt arrival beside her desk again.

"What's up?" she asked, her brow creased with concern at the identical tense looks on the two men's faces.

"We've got shots fired at the scene; uniforms just called in."

Beckett got to her feet immediately, grabbing her jacket. "Who the hell is firing at cops guarding a crime scene?"

"This part you're gonna love," Ryan said grimly. "We got a description from the black-and-white that just arrived to give them backup. Sounds a _lot_ like this guy."

He held up the printout of Abaroa's record and mugshot.

"Let's go," Beckett said, and all four of them left without another word.

* * *

Two hours later, they returned to the precinct, exhausted but relieved. The clock was just ticking past 2:11AM, and Beckett stifling a jaw-cracking yawn as she sat down gracelessly on her chair.

One uniformed officer was in hospital being treated for a gunshot injury, but it was a flesh wound on his right upper arm, and he wouldn't need surgery. Abaroa had holed up in a small nursery after his initial encounter with the uniformed officers, and had claimed he had a hostage, but it was made clear to him that he could either come out, or they would come in after him.

The nursery had naturally been empty at that time of night, and Abaroa's bluff hadn't held up for long. He surrendered after forty-five minutes or so, and was now in custody.

Uniforms were combing the streets for his vehicle now, and the Fonsecas were sending their legal counsel to represent the enforcer. The lawyer was flying in from his Winter home, and would arrive in a few hours. Until then, Abaroa was saying nothing.

"Not going to be easy to get that guy to talk," Castle said, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. "I'm thinking a supplier buy gone wrong, or maybe Stamp was trying to run a business on the side, and the Fonsecas didn't like it."

"That's what it smells like," she replied wearily, stretching her neck to get the stiffness out of it.

"What now?" he asked, and she forced her eyes to focus on him again, with considerable difficulty. His question was genuine, and she knew he was willing to keep going even though they were both on the brink of falling asleep right there in the precinct's uncomfortable office chairs.

"He lawyered up, and we're still waiting on ballistics on his gun, and whatever they find in his vehicle – if they can track it down. Nothing more to do here right now. Time to sleep."

His shoulder slumped, but in relief rather than disappointment. "I have _never_ been more eager to get into bed," he said, without a trace of innuendo.

It took a moment for his tired brain to catch up, then he blinked, and snorted with semi-hysterical laughter.

She knew it was just the exhaustion, and the crash after adrenalin, and the emotional roller-coaster of the last few days, but suddenly she found his reaction unbearably funny. Within moments, she was convulsed with silent laughter, arms folded around herself as she shook.

It took a full four minutes for the giggles to subside, and afterwards she found herself yawning more widely than she could ever remember. The movement displaced another couple of tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes, and she wiped at them clumsily.

"Jeez," she said, and it almost set Castle off again, but he managed to contain himself.

"I feel drunk," he whispered, and she nodded earnestly.

"It's the… you're just tired and wired," she replied. "Which is why we are both going home right now. Or I am, no matter what."

He held his hands up. "No arguments from me," he said. "Let's get out of here before something else happens."

Ten minutes later they were both once again sitting in the back of a taxicab, lulled into silence by the late hour, their own fatigue, and the movement of the vehicle. The city moved past without either of them really noticing it.

She glanced around at him at one point, but his face was hidden in shadow. She thought he might even have fallen asleep.

The cab slowed and came to a halt outside her apartment building, and this time when she glanced over towards him, he was looking back at her.

"Espo's going to call me when the guy's lawyer arrives, but it'll be after 10AM," she said. "I'll probably go in for then."

He nodded, not breaking eye contact. "I'll bring the coffee."

"Like always," she replied.

The mood between them was suddenly tense and delicate, and she struggled to find any more words. He seemed to sense it, and gave her a tired smile.

"Plenty of time to talk tomorrow," he said. "Get some sleep, Kate."

She gave a small sigh, and then nodded. After another moment, she opened her door and stepped out of the cab, closing it behind her and leaning down to look in through the window.

Castle was looking across at her, and he mouthed something that might have been _Goodnight_. His eyes sparkled even in the dim interior of the taxi, though their colour was changed by the street lights.

Beckett raised her palm towards him, then straightened up and took a step back. The cab pulled smoothly away and accelerated off down the street.

She took a deep breath of the cold night air, then she turned and walked over towards her building. Warmth billowed out as she pulled one of the doors open and stepped inside.

The elevator gave a muted chime as it arrived, and opened in front of her. She pressed the button for her floor without even being aware of it.

As she began to ascend, Castle's face rose up in her mind, and he had that crease on his forehead again.

_There's not plenty of time at all_, she thought.


	24. Chapter 24

_**Author's note: This story is already twice the length of Dickens' original, but we're not quite done yet.**_

_**Here we go.**_

* * *

The suspect's lawyer arrived shortly after 10:30AM, immaculately dressed and apparently no worse for wear despite being wakened in the middle of the night and flown across the country.

Beckett, Castle, Esposito, Ryan, and Gates were all waiting patiently for him.

The interrogation started slowly, with the lawyer advising his client not to say a word, and Beckett pretended to be frustrated at first – but then she opened the second folder she'd laid on the desk in front of her, and she smiled.

Abaroa's vehicle was found three blocks away from the scene, in an alley behind a sporting goods warehouse. The trunk contained an almost-empty container of gasoline, rags, a lighter with his fingerprints on it, a shirt with gunshot residue and his DNA all over it, and even two small bags of crystal meth concealed inside a tyre pump with the motor removed.

Ballistics had also matched the gun he used at the scene with the bullets recovered from Stamp's car, and the two bodies. It was a slam dunk. The fact that he'd fired shots at several police officers and even wounded one was the least of his problems. He was going away for a very, very long time.

The icing on the cake was when an enraged Abaroa actually punched his lawyer, right there in the interrogation room, and had to be dragged back to his cell. When Beckett returned to the bullpen, the lawyer was talking about filing charges against his recently-dismissed client too.

The whole circus had taken less than half an hour, and Gates was pleased. A clean solve on Christmas Eve was very welcome indeed.

The rest of the morning was taken up with the extensive paperwork the case had generated, and Castle mostly made him useful by clarifying details, ferrying documents back and forth between Beckett, Ryan, and Esposito, and bringing coffee regularly. He also went out to fetch lunch for everyone, and they ate together in the break room as a sort of low-key celebration.

It was nearly 2PM when Castle's phone chirped, and he winced when he read the message.

Beckett looked over curiously, feeling a ripple of unease pass through her.

_Can't be Stephanie. That's tomorrow_, she thought, then she chastised herself for it. Her experiences during recent weeks had taken on an unreal quality after the grim reality of their most recent case, and she was starting to believe it had all been a figment of her imagination; just dreams, anxiety, fatigue, and a little bit of paranoia.

"Everything OK?" she asked, and Castle grunted distractedly.

"Alexis and mother are asking if I'm actually going to help with the Christmas preparations this year. I think my daughter's starting to wonder if I live here now."

She could hear the guilt in his voice, and her heart went out to him. There was only one course of action, no matter how much she wanted to finish the conversation they'd started the night before last. She reached out and laid her hand on his forearm, much like she had in the taxi yesterday lunchtime.

"Go home," she said, with a small smile. "Alexis needs her dad, and you never let her down."

He looked up at her, and there were two warring emotions on his face. After a few moments, he sighed.

"Would that be OK?"

She nodded firmly. "Of course. Tell Alexis and Martha that I said hi."

He glanced down at his phone, then back up at her.

"Listen, Kate…" he began, and she sat up a little straighter upon hearing her first name here in the precinct. "About… uh, I still want to – if you do, I mean – … finish that talk. From the other night."

He reached up and scratched his ear self-consciously, and she had to suppress a smile at how endearing the gesture was.

"Me too," she said. "I have the day shift tomorrow, but I'd like to talk to you."

_Before 3:10PM tomorrow_, her mind whispered.

"I could give you call later," he suggested, but she shook her head.

"Be with your family. Do whatever it is the Castles do on Christmas Eve. But if you get a chance, can you call me tomorrow? Lunchtime would be great."

_Before Stephanie has the chance_, her mind whispered again, and she shifted position in her chair.

Castle smiled at her. "Sure. I'd like that."

She spoke again before really thinking about it.

"And maybe we could do something after Christmas. My dad doesn't get back into town until the weekend. If you're not busy on the 26th, we could do something."

He looked at her for a moment, clearly surprised, then he smiled even more widely. "I'd like that too. It's a d– … uh, damned good idea."

They looked at each other for several long moments, and then Castle cleared his throat.

"I guess I should get going," he said.

"I guess so," she replied.

"OK," he said, putting his palms flat on his thighs.

"OK," she replied, clasping her hands in her lap.

Another brief pause, then Castle slowly stood up and picked up his blazer. He pulled it on, followed by his coat, and glanced over towards Ryan's and Esposito's desks, but they weren't there at the moment.

"I'll text them later," he said, looking back around at Beckett, and she nodded.

_Say something_, she thought. _Just say something right now_.

"Merry Christmas when it comes, Kate," Castle said quietly. "And I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

She nodded again, twice, feeling a lump in her throat. She swallowed before speaking.

"Merry Christmas to you too, Castle. When it comes."

He looked at her wistfully, and for just a moment all his feelings were plain to see. She felt her pulse quicken, and hoped she wouldn't feel tears prick the corners of her eyes.

He inhaled slightly raggedly, letting his eyes wander over her face and hair for a moment.

"Well, the sooner I go, the less annoying mother will be," he said softly. "And the sooner we can talk tomorrow."

He paused for a moment before continuing.

"Midnight isn't very far away."

She felt a chill run up her spine, but she pushed it away, and simply shook her head.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but then closed it again. He gave her one last smile, then he walked slowly away towards the elevator.

* * *

Castle had barely been gone for an hour when Gates called Beckett into her office and told her that she'd been taken off the day shift for tomorrow, because of the late hours her team had put in on the recent case.

Beckett had argued half-heartedly, but the captain's mind was made up.

"You need a break, Detective," Gates said. "Everybody does. That's an order."

Beckett sighed, but it was mostly for show. "Yes, sir," she said at last, and Gates tilted her head in approval.

"And I want that report on my desk this afternoon."

Beckett nodded, then turned and walked towards the door of Gates's office, and she was just reaching for the door handle when she heard the other woman speak again from behind her.

"_Time is different here._"

Beckett spun around, goosebumps breaking out all over her body.

Gates looked at her, eyes narrowed in confusion. "Detective?"

"What did you say?" Beckett asked, holding herself together only with great effort. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she hoped her pulse wasn't visible at her neck.

Gates shrugged. "I said _then get out of here_ – once the report is finished. It's Christmas Eve, after all. You've put in a lot of time already this week."

Beckett swallowed, willing her pulse to slow. "Yes, sir," she said. "Thank you."

Gates's expression was still slightly suspicious, but she said nothing. After a moment, Beckett gave her another nod, then opened the door and stepped out of the office.

* * *

The report was finished and in Gates's in-tray by 4PM, and both Esposito and Ryan made a hasty exit before she could change her mind.

Beckett returned to her desk to collect her things, glancing briefly at the procession of porcelain elephants. She was about to shut down her computer when, on a whim, she typed a query into her web browser. She clicked a link on the search results page, then scrolled down for a moment before reaching for her phone. She dialled a number, and the call was answered after three rings.

"_Black Pawn Publishing. How may I direct your call?_"

"This is Detective Beckett, NYPD," she said, swivelling her chair away from the captain's office. "I'm just following up on a possible… witness. We're not sure, but we believe you have a woman working for you, blonde, maybe five-ten, thirties, first name Stephanie. Can you just check your personnel database for me?"

There was a pause, then the young man on the other end of the line spoke.

"_Of course, Detective. One moment._"

She twirled the phone cord around her index finger, resisting the urge to glance over her shoulder to check that Gates was still in her office. She could hear the sound of typing. After another few seconds, the young man spoke again.

"_I'm afraid your information must be wrong, Detective,_" he said. "_The only Stephanie on payroll here is an editor for our romance imprint._"

His voice lowered conspiratorially.

"_I've met her, actually. She's about five-foot-nothing in shoes, and she's got to be sixty-five if she's a day._"

The clock on the wall of the bullpen ticked loudly, just audible above the general sounds of voices and movement.

"Uh… thank you. I guess my information was wrong. I appreciate your help," she said, then she hung up.

_Strange_, she thought, but there were any number of explanations. Stephanie could be a contractor, not on regular payroll, or the receptionist could have checked the wrong database. Stephanie could be a middle name, or just a nickname that she preferred. She could even have been visiting as a client, or just coming to see a friend.

She shook her head, then she was surprised by a huge yawn.

"Time to get out of here," she muttered to herself, then she stood up and stretched, hearing her back and neck both crack loudly.

Five minutes later, she had shut down her computer, collected her things, and was in the elevator on her way down.

* * *

The drive back to her apartment took longer than usual, no doubt due to the crazy traffic as disorganised New Yorkers tried desperately to get last-minute gifts and supplies for the next day. The afternoon was cold and cloudy, but still bright enough, and Beckett felt some of the tension in her begin to ease.

When she got into her apartment, she removed her coat, kicked off her heels, and headed straight for the kitchen. There weren't many inspiring options, so she called for Chinese food, hoping to get in before the evening rush of deliveries.

An hour later, her coffee table bore empty takeout containers and an almost empty glass of red wine. The sky outside was dark.

She aimlessly channel-surfed, but nothing was appealing, and she felt her eyelids beginning to droop. It wasn't much after 6PM, but the last few days were catching up with her.

_A nap can't hurt_, she thought, feeling a momentary shiver of unease for some reason, but the feeling passed.

She clicked off the TV, setting the remote down beside her wineglass, and settled back into the couch.

She allowed her eyes to close, and after barely a minute she was asleep.

* * *

Beckett woke with a start, disoriented. She was cold, and the room was silent around her.

She blinked, and recognised her apartment. The smell of the Chinese food permeated the air, and her stomach rumbled again. She sighed, then twisted around to look over at the clock on the wall.

It was eight minutes past midnight.

"Damn it," she said. She hadn't meant to sleep for that long. She shifted her legs to get the blood flowing again, wondering what had wakened her so abruptly.

She cried out in fright at the sudden, sharp sound from behind her.

_Just the door_, she told herself, her heart rate skyrocketing for the second time that day. _Somebody at the door._

She stood up, pushing away the sluggishness that sleep had brought, and crossed quickly and quietly to where her purse and gun sat on a low side-table in the entryway. She removed the weapon from its holster, then carefully looked through the peephole in her door. Her shoulders relaxed immediately.

She re-holstered the gun, unlocked the door, and opened it.

Martha Rogers stood there, looking elegant as ever despite the unsociable hour. She wore a long coat of emerald and navy tartan, with a fuchsia scarf twined around her neck. Gold earrings glinted in the overly bright lights of the outer hallway. She had an expectant look on her face, and one immaculately-shaped eyebrow was raised slightly.

"Martha," Beckett said. "What brings you here at this hour?"

She had been so relieved to see the older woman that it only now occurred to her that this was very unusual.

_Oh god_, she thought.

"What's happened?" Beckett asked, the colour draining from her face. "Is it… Alexis?"

Martha raised her palms in a placating gesture. "Calm down, Katherine; everything is fine. You look pale, dear. Like you've seen a ghost."

_You have no idea_, her mind whispered.

Beckett took a deep breath and then exhaled loudly in relief.

"Sorry, please come in," she said, but Martha shook her head.

"Actually, I was hoping you'd be able to come with me. Not for terribly long; I know it's late. But if you could indulge me, I'd be most grateful."

_Huh_, Beckett thought. This was also unusual. _After midnight, on Christmas Eve – or Day, now, I guess._

Martha was still looking at her calmly, and eventually Beckett just shrugged.

"Uh, of course… I guess. I'll just… get my coat. Where are we going?"

"Not far," Martha replied, giving her a warm smile.

A minute later, they were both in the elevator, and Martha pressed the button for the ground floor. The doors slid shut, and Beckett stifled another yawn.

She glanced over towards Martha, but the older woman seemed to be lost in thought.

"So… did Castle help with getting everything ready for tomorrow? I bet he's dying to see Alexis's face when she gets her scooter."

Martha sighed briefly, and closed her eyes. A sad smile appeared on her face, and Beckett took a step closer to her.

"Martha? What's wrong?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing really, dear," Martha replied, tilting her head slightly. "It's just… my son. I remember how excited he always gets at this time of year."

Beckett remained silent, waiting for the other woman to continue. After a long pause, she did.

"_I haven't seen him in such a long time._"

Beckett frowned.

_But you were only away for three days_, she thought. _And he picked you up at the airport._

She was just beginning to wonder if perhaps there was something wrong with Martha – _Dementia? It can happen at her age –_ when the older woman turned towards her and opened her eyes.

The elevator was brightly lit, and suddenly it seemed far too small. The air seemed much colder than it did a moment ago.

Beckett felt goosebumps break out all down her arms, and her jaw clenched. Every hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

Martha looked back at her, her eyes filled with sadness as they shifted from green, to blue, to brown, and back again.

Beckett took an involuntary step back, then she felt the smooth surface of the wall against her. There was nowhere else to go.

The elevator rumbled slowly past the ground floor without stopping, and past the basement.

Then it continued down, into the darkness beyond.


	25. Chapter 25

The elevator continued downwards, even though Beckett knew it had gone far below the foundations of her building. It had become noticeably colder, and the sound from beyond the steel doors was like a shrieking wind.

Martha stood in silence, looking at her with the same regretful expression on her face.

"Oh god, Martha," Beckett said, still pressed up against the left wall of the tiny space. "How did… I mean… what happened to you?"

The older woman was silent for a moment, her strange eyes twinkling, then she spoke.

"_When I died?_"

Beckett nodded, a shiver running up her spine.

"_Tonight isn't about me, Katherine, as you very well know._"

The ghost started to turn her head away, but Beckett took a step forward.

"Please," she said. "I have to know. I… was it at least… a long time from now?"

Again Martha paused, considering the question, then she sighed. Her breath plumed out, visible in the air.

"_I'm afraid it's not so many years away,_" she replied at last. "_A silly accident. I fell down some stairs, at my dear studio. How I've missed it._"

Beckett frowned. She'd been to Martha's acting studio, and it was in a converted warehouse on the corner of a block. It was all on the ground floor. There were no stairs anywhere.

The ghost raised an eyebrow in amusement, and Beckett remembered that these beings could hear her thoughts just as easily as her spoken words.

"_I moved to another studio,_" Martha said. "_Better acoustics._"

"I'm so sorry," Beckett replied, and she truly meant it. She felt a tear roll down her cheek. The idea of this proud, flamboyant, strong woman ever dying was hard to accept. The idea that it was in a silly accident, and long before her time, was appalling. It was like losing another mother.

There was silence for several long moments as the elevator rumbled ceaselessly downwards.

"But you're still… alive. Here and now, I mean?" Beckett asked, then she realised the absurdity of her question. "Or where we just were."

The ghost nodded.

"So how can you be here too, while there's another Martha at home, in Castle's loft?"

The ghost smiled, and there was a disturbing hint of mischief to it.

"_My dear Katherine, it's you who's not 'here' anymore. Where we're going, I've been dead for quite some time. But we have a stop or two to make first._"

Beckett felt fear rise up inside her. She'd seen some painful things with Royce and Montgomery, but she truly dreaded the thought of seeing her own future laid out before her.

_Some questions shouldn't be answered_, she thought.

"_But answer them we must,_" Martha replied, turning to face the doors of the elevator again. "_And I think it's time we began._"

The elevator shuddered briefly, and then slowed. The howling wind outside faded abruptly to silence, and then the elevator clanked as if it was slotting back into a larger mechanism.

Beckett felt the floor pressing up against the soles of her feet as the elevator braked heavily, and after another few seconds it came to a stop with a small jolt.

She heard the muted pinging sound that indicated they had arrived at their destination, and the doors slid smoothly open.

Ahead of her, she saw the familiar corridor leading to the bullpen.

"We're in the precinct," she said, and Martha nodded, gesturing with her arm to indicate that Beckett should go first.

They stepped out of the elevator and began to walk towards the open area at the far end. Beckett looked around carefully.

It was the middle of the day, and everything was much the same – but there were differences. The computers were new, and of a model she didn't recognise. The murder board was now a smart board.

A uniformed officer walked by, not noticing either of them, and he was holding a mobile phone that was thinner than any she'd ever seen before, and seemingly made of a single piece of glass, the display running edge-to-edge on one side.

_We're in the future_, she thought, and Martha nodded.

"What year is this?" Beckett asked, and Martha glanced at her briefly before shrugging.

"_The date isn't what's important, Katherine,_" she replied. "_Suffice it to say that there've been a handful of Winters since you stepped into that elevator tonight._"

Beckett frowned, but accepted the ghost's answer.

_It's your show_, she thought.

"_And it's for your benefit,_" Martha replied archly, then strode diagonally across the bullpen towards the break room. After a moment, Beckett followed.

The room's blinds were drawn and the door was closed, but Martha simply passed straight through, with Beckett only a step behind.

As the interior of the room came into view, she stopped abruptly in shock.

She was looking at Castle, and herself.

Both of them were ever so slightly older. She could see some fine lines around her older self's eyes, and even a telltale glimpse of isolated grey strands showing in her hair. She was in the same shape as ever, but her style of dress was subtly different. Darker colours, and lower heels. One of the lapels of her blouse was heavily creased.

_Maybe I'm just having a bad day_, she thought, but she didn't believe it. Tension was radiating from her older self, and Castle didn't look much more comfortable.

He looked a little older too, but not in a bad way. There were matching little clusters of silver hairs coming in at his temples, but his hair was as thick as ever. As she looked at him she had a brief mental image of how he'd look when he was older still, with a full head of silver-grey hair. She flushed when she remembered that his mother was in the room with her, and could hear her thoughts.

"_Don't mind me, dear,_" the ghost said, but there was an edge of sadness to it.

Castle sighed, running his hand through his hair as he leaned against the counter that held the coffee machine – a different one than the contraption he'd bought for the homicide department.

"Kate," he said, and Beckett flinched momentarily before realising he was talking to her older self. He didn't continue, but the older Beckett shook her head.

"There's nothing more to say, Castle," she replied. Her tone was cold and flat. "I've made up my mind. I can't make you go, but I'm asking you to walk away."

He looked at her for several seconds, then opened his mouth to respond but he was interrupted by a soft tone. The older Beckett rolled her eyes, and he pulled a thin, translucent oblong of glass from his trouser pocket. It was a few millimetres thick, with no markings except the grey outline of the familiar Apple logo. When he turned it to face him, the entire surface became opaque, showing a three-dimensional animated icon of a speech balloon.

_That's… a text message_, Beckett thought. _Or something like it._

"Sorry," he said, pocketing the strange device again, but the older Beckett just frowned.

"She's right, you know," the older Beckett said, and Castle looked confused for a moment.

"About it being time you gave up playing cop," she continued. "You've got responsibilities, and more on the way."

Castle inhaled deeply, again running his hand through his hair.

_Who's right?_ Beckett though, glancing at Martha, but the ghost didn't look around at her. _And what responsibilities?_

"Steph was just asking me to pick up some–" Castle began, but the older Beckett cut him off.

"I don't want to know, Castle. Your fiancée can ask you to bring home any damn thing she likes. She's carrying your child. That's where you should be. Not here, or out chasing murderers."

He was silent for a long time. Eventually, the other Beckett looked away, tilting her head to crack her neck.

"You've changed, Kate," he said quietly, and Beckett's older self looked at him again, defiant at first but then with a flicker of uncertainty. "You didn't used to be like this. Even the guys think so."

"Ryan and Esposito?" she asked, incredulously, and he nodded. "I haven't talked to Esposito in a month, and Ryan spends most of his time in oversight meetings. What would they know?"

"They used to know. They used to know you damned well," he replied, getting angry now too. "But you've been pushing us all away for more than a year now. What I can't figure out is why."

"I'm not having this conversation again," she said, and there was finality in her tone. "I asked you in here because I've requested another partner. I think you know that this thing has run its course. For the sake of everything we've been through together over the years, I'm asking you to walk away now. You have your life to get on with, and I have mine."

Martha lowered her head, and Beckett felt anxiety pulsing through her. _Why would I say that to him? What happened to me?_

Castle was still looking at her older self, and Beckett saw the moment that he finally gave up hope of getting through to her. It was the tiniest change in… something. His expression. His posture. His eyes. And then it was over.

He stepped forward, and the older Beckett glanced up at him, her face a mask of indifference.

"It's been a pleasure, Kate Beckett," he said. "I mean that."

He raised his hand towards her, and she drew herself up to her full height then she reached forward and shook it firmly.

"Have a good life, Castle," she replied. There was still the coldness in her tone, but Beckett thought she could also hear a desperate sadness beneath. "I know you will."

Castle looked around the small room, then fixed his gaze on her for another long moment before quickly crossing to the door, passing straight through Beckett. She smelled his aftershave as he passed by.

He paused, his hand on the door handle.

"I still think you're extraordinary," he said, his voice just loud enough for the woman to hear, but the older Beckett didn't reply. After another moment, the opened the door and stepped out, closing it behind him.

"What are you _doing_?" Beckett cried out, raising her hands towards her older self even though she knew the woman couldn't hear her.

She turned to Martha. "Why is she doing this?!"

The ghost didn't reply, and Beckett waited only a moment before running straight through the closed door into the hallway, and glancing around for Castle. He was already at the far end, stepping into the empty elevator. He pressed a button and the doors began to close.

She ran towards him, but she was too late. The doors met, and he was gone.

She came to a halt, then impulsively raised her fists and thrust them towards the metal doors, and she was surprised when her hands banged painfully against the cold steel.

"_I'm afraid we're getting the next one,_" Martha said from just over her shoulder, and she spun around.

"What's going on here?" Beckett asked, her voice wavering. Everything about this was wrong. Castle was _engaged_ to Stephanie? And living with her. And she was pregnant!

She suddenly burst into tears, and the ghost laid a comforting hand on her arm.

"_I know, dear. I know. But you waited, you see,_" she said sadly.

Beckett swiped at the tears on her cheeks, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"When did I wait? What caused all this?"

Martha looked at her for several seconds, her expression filled with dismay and regret.

"_Even after all you've seen, you held back. You worried about whether friendship was all you could be sure of. You feared you'd reach out for more and it would all come crumbling down. And so you waited, and you delayed._"

Martha sighed, taking Beckett's hand in hers.

"_You asked for time, but really you were giving it to him – the time to move on, slowly, bit by bit. To get over you, before there was anything to get over._"

"But I… I _was_ going to…" she began, but the ghost shook her head sadly.

"_Yet here we are,_" she said simply. "_And the night is young._"

The ghost gently ushered her forward, and Beckett saw that the elevator now stood open in front of them, even though she hadn't heard it arrive. The interior was also the elevator from her apartment building, not the one here in the precinct. They stepped inside, and the doors slid shut.

There was a moment of silence before Martha spoke again.

"_What you must understand, Katherine, is that this is your final night._"

A chill ran up Beckett's spine, and she visibly shivered.

"What does that _mean_?" she asked, in a small voice.

The ghost's eyes shifted from green, to blue, to brown, to grey, and then to some unidentifiable colour.

"_This night – the one when you stepped into this elevator – is the last before it's too late. All the pieces are in place. There's no more time._"

Then Martha smiled wistfully, and it was terrible to behold – an expression that whispered of untold ages of loneliness, spent silently waiting to try and set something right that once went wrong.

"_Now, you must see what happened after you waited too long. We have more stops to make before this night is done._"

The elevator jolted, even though neither of them had touched any of the buttons. It began to move downwards, slowly at first and then faster, and with a final shriek of metal against metal, the sound of the howling wind outside returned.

Beckett stepped back against the wall, pressing her palms flat against the surface.

They fell through whatever void lay beyond the thin walls, hurtling ever downwards, into the shadowy years ahead.


	26. Chapter 26

_**Author's note: The Ghost of Christmas Future always brings the most unsettling discoveries. Beckett has some harsh truths to face before the end of this long night – then it'll be up to her to make a choice.**_

_**We're almost there, and it's always darkest just before the dawn. Thanks so much for joining me on this journey.**_

* * *

Beckett couldn't get the scene out of her mind.

She had always feared that she'd push him away one day – with the wall inside her, with her anger, with her brokenness – but she never thought she'd actually tell him to go; to remove himself from her life once and for all.

_But I can't have meant it. I'd never want that. Never._

Martha's head turned ever so slightly towards her, but the ghost didn't speak.

_I must have apologised. I'd have gone and told him… something_.

As if in response to her thoughts, the elevator jolted again, and the howling wind outside sharpened in tone until it became the painful shriek of metal grinding against metal.

Their pace of descent slowly abruptly, making Beckett stagger on her feet, and then the deceleration became more gradual. After a few more seconds, they came to a gentle stop.

There was a muted pinging sound, and then the doors slid smoothly open.

The corridor ahead was unfamiliar, dimly lit, and the walls were drab and peeling. Doors with numbers on them lined the walls at regular intervals. A set of fluorescent strip-lights flickered silently overhead. The air smelled vaguely of dampness.

_An apartment building_, she thought.

Martha walked out of the elevator without a word, and began moving down the corridor, and Beckett followed reluctantly.

Beside each door there was a small, opaque black panel of glass. Its purpose was a mystery to her.

There were advertisements on the walls, as thin as paper but rigid and seemingly interactive. They chattered away quietly. Occasionally, an illuminated element would protrude from the screens by a few inches, hovering translucently in the space just in front of the wall, and then retract again.

"Where are we?" Beckett asked, and the ghost came to a stop in front of a scuffed door bearing the number 1207.

"_Home_," Martha replied, then she stepped through the door as if it were made of smoke.

Beckett followed, feeling deeply uneasy, and after a brief moment of darkness she saw that she was standing in a shabby apartment. Martha stood nearby, looking back at her. There was no-one else in sight.

Across the room on the opposite wall, there was a large paper-thin screen like the ones out in the hallway, showing _It's a Wonderful Life_. The movie was somehow in full colour despite being filmed in black and white, and the sound was turned down low. There was a hint of a sharp smell in the air.

Beckett slowly walked over to a nearby window, and saw that she was quite a few floors above street level. It was evening, and the city was alive with sound, light, and movement.

The window seemed to have some kind of polarising filter attached to it, and every few seconds, weather information scrolled across the bottom edge, including a UV warning and a pollution report saying that the air was cleaner than it had been in the last decade.

She flinched as something large buzzed past the window, then she peered out and saw that it was a black quadcopter drone, its surface emblazoned with a familiar smile-like logo in mustard yellow. It had a plastic box slung underneath, and it seemed to be making its way towards a higher floor on a building across the street.

Beckett looked down and saw unfamiliar cars moving steadily along, some of them without drivers.

_Further into the future_, she thought.

"_Quite a bit,_" Martha replied. "_But you're not here to take in the view, Detective._"

Beckett glanced around at the older woman, and saw that she was standing near a threadbare couch with a high back. The ghost beckoned to her, and she crossed the room to join her.

As she came level with the side of the couch, she saw a pair of feet.

She wondered for a brief moment if someone had died, but then the feet moved and she breathed a sigh of relief, taking a final step forward.

The television (if that's what it was) cast an eerie blue light that didn't illuminate all of the modestly-sized living room, but Beckett realised that she was once again looking at herself.

_My god_, she thought.

This woman was barely recognisable. Her dull brown hair was threaded with grey now, and it was all pulled back into a careless ponytail. She wore no makeup, and her eyes were liquid, hard dark shadows beneath them. Then Beckett smelled the sharp aroma again, and noticed the almost-empty bottle of cheap whiskey clutched in her older self's fist.

This future version of herself shifted position on the couch, and the other side of her face came into view.

Beckett gasped.

There was an ugly scar stretching from the corner of her left eye down across her cheek and almost to her chin. It was raised up from the surface of her skin, ridged, and clearly a few years old already.

The woman on the couch took a long swallow of the amber liquid, then tucked the bottle in to her side, lifting her arm in the air and making a strange gesture. The image on the television changed immediately, now showing a series of news reports. Her hand shook noticeably, and she pulled it back towards her. She coughed, then took another swallow of the alcohol.

"Jesus," Beckett muttered, horrified at the sight of what she would become. "How long has she been like this? And what happened to her face?"

Martha shook her head, pity and deep sadness written on her face.

"_She's been this way for years now, though it's become much worse since she was discharged from her job. And she was attacked when she was leaving a bar. There was a knife. The perpetrator is in a wheelchair now, incidentally._"

A sick feeling welled up in Beckett's stomach, but she wasn't surprised. Trouble attracted trouble. This woman in front of her was clearly an alcoholic, and damaging herself every single day.

"But… how did she end up here? What happened to my apartment?"

"_She couldn't afford it any longer,_" Martha replied simply. "_And no-one was around to help, because she's long since pushed everyone else away, in her rage and self-pity._"

Beckett stood in silence for a full minute, watching her older self stare blankly at the flickering images on the screen, tremors still visible in her hands, and her head bobbing slightly from the effects of the alcohol.

The distant sound of a door slamming somewhere down the hallway was heard, then a few moments of shouting, and finally footsteps that receded into the distance, but the older Beckett didn't even glance around. Instead, she took another drink.

"Where's Castle?" Beckett asked, her voice frightened and barely more than a whisper.

"_Living his own life, dear,_" Martha said sadly. "_He learned not to be drawn into this woman's self-destruction. He has other responsibilities now._"

Beckett belatedly became aware that her cheeks were wet, and suddenly she desperately wanted to be out of this awful place; this oubliette of the future, where she would apparently one day wait out the hastening final years of her life, entirely alone.

The woman on the couch stirred, swinging her feet off the couch, and she sat up unsteadily. She reached out towards the table, putting the whiskey bottle down and then grasping something else that Beckett hadn't even noticed.

It was a book.

On the back cover, there was a portrait of Castle, and his hair was more silver than brown now. The image was exceptionally vivid, and Beckett wasn't sure whether it was printed or another of these strange digital screens that seemed to be everywhere here.

The older Beckett slowly turned the book over, and the front cover came into view. It was rendered in black and dark red, with the outline of a woman's body lying on the ground. A pool of liquid had spread out from where she lay, and the title stood out in narrow, block letters along the bottom third of the image: _Heat Death_.

"_It came out eight years ago,_" Martha said quietly. "_I think that was the beginning of the end for her. Or rather, for you._"

Beckett's eyes were still fixed on the book in her alter ego's hands.

"He killed off Nikki," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.

"_He had to,_" the ghost replied. "_It was too painful for him – for everyone – to watch what you were doing to yourself. He needed to break that final, most important tie; the thing that started it all._"

A snort from the woman on the couch startled Beckett, and she saw that her older self had fallen asleep. Her breathing rasped, and the scar made it look like she was snarling.

She was a figure of utter desperation and hopelessness.

"Please take me away from here, Martha," Beckett said, her own voice quivering now. "_Please_."

The ghost looked at her for a long moment, and then nodded.

Beckett took one last look at the pitiful figure snoring on the couch, fighting an impulse to reach out to her, then she turned and quickly walked back across the room and straight through the solid door, finding herself once again in the shabby hallway. Martha appeared at her side immediately.

"I just… I can't believe it," Beckett said. "That was _me_, and… look what I'd become. Oh god."

She wrapped her arms around herself, her pulse pounding in her chest as the advertising screens chattered quietly away all down the walls.

Martha put a slender hand on her shoulder.

"_Your life stands at a crossroads tonight, Katherine. I can only show you the path you're on, and where it will take you._"

"I don't want this," Beckett replied immediately, her eyes wide and frightened. "This can't be what happens to me."

Martha tilted her head slightly.

"_Oh but it could, my dear. It could._"

With that, the ghost patted her shoulder once more, then walked off down the hall towards the open elevator at the far end. Beckett hurried after her.

Inside, it was still the elevator from her apartment building, unremarkable but clean and well-maintained – completely out of place here. Beckett was glad to step inside it, and see the doors close, shutting out that awful place.

"_I'm afraid there isn't much call for relief,_" Martha said sadly, and Beckett barely had time to glance at her before the elevator clanked and shuddered, then began to move downwards.

Panic immediately welled up in Beckett's chest.

_Down again_, her mind whispered in a not-quite-rational tone. _Always down_.

"Where are we going?" she asked, her arms wrapped around herself again, and her back pressed against the smooth wall.

The elevator gathered speed, metal shrieking against metal and the floor jolting, and Beckett thought that she could feel a vague heat rising in the surface behind her.

Martha looked across at her. The ghost's eyes were changing faster now; green, brown, blue, grey, an unidentifiable colour, and then black.

Beckett's whole body crawled with gooseflesh.

"_To the end,_" Martha said, and there was something inhuman beneath her flat tone.

_Please let this be over_, Beckett's mind screamed, but the apparition standing across from her only looked on, unblinking.

The sound of a howling gale returned, and the lights above their heads flickered for a moment, but mercifully stayed on.

The elevator plummeted faster and faster now, hurtling down through unglimpsed dark years and beyond, and the only thing Beckett could do was squeeze her eyes tightly shut.


	27. Chapter 27

The elevator doors opened, and grey light spilled in. Beckett squinted in the momentary glare until her eyes adjusted.

The daylight was welcome, even thought it was grey and cloudy. Rain was falling steadily. The view was of a grassy hill, leading down towards a quiet road. In the distance, small vehicles of some kind flitted through the sky.

Martha gestured, and they both stepped out of the elevator. Its doors slid shut as soon as they were clear, and it vanished into thin air as if it had been no more than a mirage. Beckett glanced over her shoulder, uphill, and her blood froze.

_Tombstones_.

There were rows and rows of them, arranged in narrow alleys and broad avenues, filling what seemed to be acres of land. It was one of the largest graveyards she'd ever seen.

A short distance away, she saw a familiar sight.

A group of people, all clad in black, stood gathered around a sealed casket, which was set on runners above an open grave. The group was small, but she immediately recognised Alexis.

"My god," Beckett gasped, and Martha nodded.

"_All grown up,_" the ghost replied.

It was an understatement. Alexis was at least in her mid-thirties, elegantly dressed, and a tall man with jet black hair stood next to her, his arm around her shoulders. Alexis wiped a tear from her cheek, and the man looked down at her compassionately.

"_She's not the only familiar face, Katherine,_" Martha said quietly, and Beckett frowned, beginning to walk up the gentle incline towards the gathering.

The rain passed straight through her. When she reached the perimeter of the mourners, she saw that small devices were discreetly set at wide intervals around the gravesite, and they seemed to be deflecting the rain up to a height of about fifteen feet. None of the people had umbrellas open, but no rain touched them.

Then she saw him.

_Castle!_

His hair was silver-white, and if anything he was thinner than she'd seen him last. He was still immaculately dressed, and a tiny disc of black glass, about the size of a quarter, was pinned to the lapel of his suit jacket.

His brow had many more creases now, and his eyes were more grey than blue. She thought he was perhaps very slightly shorter, too.

_He's… older_, she thought.

"_Early sixties is no age at all, at this point in time,_" Martha remarked, and Beckett glanced at her for a moment before returning her attention to Castle. It was then that she noticed the woman by his side, with her arm linked through his.

"That's…"

She tailed off, feeling her stomach twist, and Martha stepped over to stand beside her. The ghost gave the barest nod.

Stephanie had aged well. There were a few more lines on her face, and her hair was coloured, but she was remarkably vibrant, even when dressed in black. Her left hand rested on Castle's right forearm, and on her fourth finger Beckett saw two bands, one with a spectacular solitaire diamond, and the other a plain circle of gold.

_She's his wife_.

Beckett's pulse slowed this time, instead of racing, until she was sure her heart would simply stop beating.

A man stood at the head of the grave, reading from a paper-thin translucent sheet of material with scrolling words on its surface. His voice carried over to Beckett, even though her attention was fixed on Castle.

"… _to thank you all for coming here today to pay our last respects to Katherine Houghton Beckett…_"

She recoiled, her pulse spiking now, even as a chill hurtled up her spine. She spun to look at Martha, and the ghost's dark, ever-changing eyes gave her the answer without even having to ask.

_I'm at my own funeral_, Beckett thought, feeling panic and unreality well up inside her. _I'm dead. Oh god NO._

She was paralysed by the magnitude of it. This was it: the end of her life. The day that no-one gets to see. Yet here she stood, under an invisible canopy that deflected the rainfall, decades from her own time, watching the final scene of a future she dreaded with every fibre of her being.

"What… I mean, how did I…" she began, but the words caught in her throat.

Martha sighed, and shook her head.

"_A question best left unanswered,_" the ghost replied quietly.

Beckett swayed on her feet. For a moment, she thought she was going to pass out, but she forced herself to take several deep breaths until her mind cleared a little.

She instinctively took a step towards Castle, and then she saw the moisture on his cheeks.

He was crying silently.

"Oh, Castle, no," she said, her voice breaking. She took another step towards him but then stopped short as she watched Stephanie tighten her grip on his arm and lay her other hand on his chest.

_That should be me_, she thought, feeling despair and hopeless jealousy curl through her, but there was nothing she could do. Seeing the tears slide down his lined face was more than she could bear.

She turned to Martha, wordlessly imploring her to do something, but the ghost shook her head.

"_I'd dearly like to comfort my son, but this is no more my time than yours, Katherine. I'm afraid we can only watch._"

Beckett turned again to look at Castle, willing him to somehow know that she was there. Martha watched her thoughtfully for a moment, then raised her hand.

"_We can also listen,_" the ghost said, laying her palm on Beckett's shoulder.

It was like distant whispering at first, soft and unintelligible.

Then the words became louder, and Beckett caught a few fragments. After another few seconds, the volume swelled and her mouth fell open.

She could hear Castle's thoughts.

So many, all overlapping. Sometimes in his voice, and sometimes in her own. She knew immediately that she was listening to the sound of his own despair, as memories and regrets circled and overlapped in his mind.

–_only we had more time–_

–_Your sustenance, Detective–_

–_should never have let her push me away–_

–_you do remind me a little of Hooch–_

–_never thought it would end like this–_

–_This isn't one of your books–_

–_can't believe she's gone–_

–_Don't worry, Castle, I'd get you out–_

–_never told her how I–_

–_more of a one-and-done type–_

–_just wish I'd had one more chance–_

–_Always–_

The voices rose to a crescendo, and for a brief moment, she could actually feel what he was feeling too. The magnitude of his sense of loss physically staggered her, and she let out a choked sob.

The ghost lifted her hand from Beckett's shoulder, and the voices vanished immediately, leaving only the sound of the man at the head of the gravesite finishing up his brief eulogy.

Beckett wept, arms curled around herself, her whole body shaking. Not for the tragic twist her life had apparently taken in the future, and not even for her own death – but for Castle's grief.

Stephanie took a tissue from the pocket of her long coat, and handed it to her husband. He took it gratefully, with just a small nod.

After a few moments, she leaned in towards him, and Beckett strained to hear her words.

"You loved her, didn't you?" Stephanie asked. There was no accusation or bitterness in her voice, just the calm acceptance that comes from trust and a brief lifetime of togetherness. "Back when we first met. You were in love with her."

Castle's jaw twitched as he fought to rein in his emotions, and finally he nodded, before meeting her gaze. He saw the understanding there, and he gave a shuddering sigh before leaning down to kiss his wife.

"_He does love her,_" Martha said quietly from Beckett's side, "_but she was never the love of his life. I think she always knew that._"

Beckett stood there, staring at Castle and this woman who had accompanied him through a life she'd never had the chance to see. And then everything fell into place.

Her job. Her quest. Her wall.

All real. All important, in their own unique ways.

_But one day, it all comes to an end for each of us_.

On that day, a life was summarised by a stranger. A person was weighed and judged by those whose lives they had touched. Their final measure was taken.

_This is the chain you've forged in life, Katie_.

Upon a discreet voice command from the man at the head of the gravesite, the casket slid slowly and silently downwards into the plot.

The service had finished now, and the mourners began to move off. Alexis embraced her father, wearing a look of such understanding and pity that it broke Beckett's heart to see it.

Castle asked where his grandson was, and Alexis replied that the car was picking the boy up from daycare and bringing him to meet them at the house. Her son was apparently called Jackson.

Castle took one last look at the gaping rectangular hole in the ground, then up at the grey sky above. He mumbled something to himself, too softly for her to hear, and then he turned around and began to walk slowly down the hill. Stephanie lingered for a moment, watching her husband go.

Then she turned her head and looked directly at Beckett.

Beckett felt goosebumps all down her arms, but she didn't look away. There was recognition in the other woman's gaze, but that was impossible.

_You can't see me_, Beckett thought. _You can't know I'm here._

Yet Stephanie seemed to contemplate her for a long moment, before she also turned and headed off in the direction Castle had gone.

Beckett watched her leave, unsure what to do. She turned to where Martha had been standing, but the ghost wasn't there.

"Martha?" she called out in alarm, but there was no reply. She was alone.

Impulsively she tried to run down the hill, to follow Castle and Alexis and everyone else, but a blast of wind from nowhere suddenly pushed her back. The gale rose from nothing to hurricane force in seconds, screaming all around her.

She stumbled backwards, unable to keep her footing against the unearthly power of it.

She briefly felt solid ground underfoot, and then nothing – and she fell.

Her back jarred painfully against the lid of the casket.

_No_, she thought. _NO!_

She was in her own grave, lying on top of her own coffin, and suddenly the walls of earth all around her seemed like they were fifty feet high. The grey sky was impossibly far away, and she screamed even though there was no-one to hear her.

A moment later, the casket beneath her creaked, and then fell away.

She was in free-fall now, tumbling downwards. Her knee connected with the dirt on one side, then her fingers clutched uselessly at dried-out roots on the other, and then the pit seemed to open out around her.

_Down again. Always down._

She was in a black void, hurting down into darkness.

And then there was light, but not the calm and sane light of day. Flickering red-orange, blooming up from unguessable depths below, until the entire world was filled with it.

She fell towards it, faster and faster, and then she felt a wicked heat rising to meet her.

_I'm dying_.

She could hear it now, too, crackling and snapping in an eternity of flame. Hot air rushed around her, and she struggled to take a breath.

She knew that these were her final moments. She reached out, but there was nothing to catch hold of as she fell endlessly down.

_Castle_, she thought.

Then the fire engulfed her.

* * *

The light was everywhere. Red and orange and yellow, filling her vision. Beckett raised a hand to shield her eyes.

But the heat was gone, except for a gentle warmth.

_I'm… lying down?_

She instinctively took a deep, ragged breath, then threw herself forward into a sitting position.

Her apartment was vividly lit by the Winter morning sun. The orange rays poured in through the blinds she'd never had the chance to close.

She looked around in disbelief, checking every corner. It was just her apartment. The refrigerator hummed away to itself, as if wondering what all the fuss was about. The takeout containers still sat on the coffee table beside her.

Beckett reached up to touch her cheeks, and found them slightly wet. Then her eyes widened and she sprang up from the couch and hurried to the mirror in the entranceway.

There was no scar. No grey hairs. She even looked relatively well-rested.

_Morning_, she thought. _But… when?_

She crossed to a window, leaning close to the glass, and looked down. There was a fine blanket of snowflakes on the sidewalks, though the sky was clear for the moment. Traffic and pedestrians moved restlessly, as ever, though the streets were certainly quieter than usual.

A mother walked along carrying two large shopping bags, with her young sons trailing behind her. The elder one clutched a frozen turkey in his arms.

Beckett turned from the window, then she saw her phone sitting behind an almost-empty container of rice on the coffee table. She crossed the room and picked it up, pressing the Home button with her thumb.

The device lit up, showing the familiar lock screen.

_Wednesday, 25__th__ December_

She lifted her head slowly, her eyes drawn irresistibly towards the quietly ticking clock on the wall.

_7:43_

She clutched the phone even more tightly in her hand, feeling a fresh tear trace down her cheek.

_He's talking to Alexis in his kitchen right now._

But there was still time.

"I didn't miss it," she said to the empty room. "It's Christmas Day and _I didn't miss it!_"

As if the thought had finally wakened her mind up fully, she turned and ran into her bedroom.

She emerged less than fifteen minutes later, showered, dressed, and as presentable as possible. She didn't even glance towards the kitchen area, instead going immediately to the low counter running along the side of the entranceway.

The clock on the wall ticked more loudly here.

She grabbed the items she needed, stuffing them into a simple black purse.

Wallet.

_Tick_

Gun.

_Tock_

Badge.

_Tick_

Phone.

_Tock_

Keys.

_Tick_

She heard a bell chiming in the distance.

"Not this time," she said, grabbing the door handle.

A moment later, the apartment was empty once again.


	28. Chapter 28

_**Author's note: A brief chapter, due to a busy day. We're finally here: Christmas morning.**_

_**Beckett has seen the way her future could so easily unfold, and she knows it's up to her to change her fate. I think it's time to begin giving these two their own miracle.**_

_**Several of you have mentioned that you enjoy getting the email notifications for this story. I feel the same way about your kind comments. Thank you so much for reading.**_

* * *

The short drive seemed to take forever, even though the streets were quiet. It was a beautiful morning, and the light dusting of snow gave everything an ethereal quality.

Beckett forced herself to stick to the speed limit, drumming her fingers impatiently on the wheel whenever she encountered a stop light. The clock on the dashboard read 8:07 AM.

A theatre marquee advertised a musical production of _Oliver!_ in unlit neon.

A removal truck, parked and empty, bore the _Jumbo Removals_ livery, with the winking cartoon elephant.

A store, closed today, had a large banner up in the window proclaiming _Not much time left to SAVE_.

She tried to ignore the signs, but her neck was stiff with tension by the time she pulled into a parking space outside Castle's building, and quickly went inside.

She walked over to the elevator, feeling a twinge of unease. _Got to start taking the stairs_, she thought, but there was no time for that now.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out, seeing that the text was from Castle.

_**Merry Christmas, KB. Hope your day is as merry as possible. I'll call you at lunch.**_

The doors slid open in front of her, and she stepped inside. The text was about half an hour later than it had been when she'd stood in his home, with Roy Montgomery at her side, and watched Castle send it.

_But I asked him to call me today. I've already started making changes._

Her stomach fluttered with nervousness, and she wasn't sure whether it was about what she was going to do, or what would happen if she didn't. All the knew was that there was no more time to waste.

As she began to ascend, she glanced at her father's watch on her wrist. It said 8:16 AM.

* * *

Castle put the last of the breakfast plates into the dishwasher, with Alexis's help. Martha had just gone upstairs to shower and change.

He was still thinking about his conversation with his daughter, half an hour before.

_Maybe it's time for you to stop chasing her_. That's what Alexis had said.

"I wish it were that simple," he muttered to himself, and the girl looked around at him with one raised eyebrow. He just smiled apologetically and shook his head.

Alexis gave a small sigh. He always did this to himself, and she wished that he could have the happiness he was looking for. She'd known him for every moment of her life, and she knew that he'd never come so close to finding his soul mate as he had with Detective Kate Beckett.

_They just… fit_, she thought. _And I wish she saw it too._

She was just beginning to wonder if she might be able to find a way to talk to Beckett in private sometime, when they were both surprised by a knock on the door.

She looked over at her father with a silent question on her face, but he only shrugged.

"I'll get it," Alexis said, and she headed over towards the entranceway.

* * *

Beckett clenched and unclenched her fists at her sides.

_Calm down, Kate_, she thought. _You've been here plenty of times._

But never like this. Never when it was her last chance. Never when she'd seen a dark future stretching out before her.

Never when she saw herself lose him, then push him away, then finally lose herself and begin a long, slow spiral down towards her own destruction.

_Never when I reached the end, and the last thing I thought about was him_.

She was pulled from her thoughts by the door opening in front of her, revealing a puzzled Alexis. There was a strange look on the girl's face; almost shock.

"Detective Beckett?" she asked, and Beckett gave her a small smile.

"Hi," she replied. "Sorry. I know it's early. But… can I… I need to talk to your dad."

Alexis paused for only a moment before nodding cautiously, then stepping aside to allow her to enter.

Beckett stepped into the familiar loft, and she immediately saw him standing over in the kitchen area. He was wearing navy blue pyjama trousers, and a t-shirt with the words _BEAM ME UP_ emblazoned across the chest in futuristic, bright-yellow letters.

A chill ran up her spine.

_I've been here before. Oh god please let me not be too late._

Castle frowned and immediately walked over to her.

"Beckett? What's going on?"

She watched as the worry sprung into his eyes. Before she could respond, he was speaking again.

"What's happened? Is everybody OK?"

She raised her hands towards him, palms out. "Everybody's fine, Castle. Nothing's wrong."

Some of the tension left his face, and was replaced with confusion.

"I thought… aren't you working today?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"Gates came over after you left yesterday. We all got the next few days off, after the hours we put in on the Stamp case."

Castle nodded slowly, then his face brightened. "That's great!" He glanced over at the clock and saw it was only 8:20 in the morning.

"I know – it's really early," Beckett said, colour rising in her cheeks. "But… I just… I need to talk to you. If that's OK."

Alexis's gaze moved between the two of them, then she cleared her throat.

"I'm going to go upstairs and get ready," she said. "I'm glad you're here, Detective. You're going to stay for a while, aren't you?"

Beckett smiled at her. "If that's OK with your dad," she said.

Both women were looking at him now, and Castle blinked. "Uh… of course. You're always welcome here. You know that."

Beckett gave him a meaningful look. Alexis dropped her gaze, then silently excused herself and went upstairs.

Castle suddenly became aware that he was still in his pyjamas, and he shifted his weight to the other foot. "We usually keep it casual on Christmas morning," he said. "Maybe I should go and change first."

_Tick, tock._

"No," Beckett said suddenly, and she saw Castle's eyebrows rise slightly. "I mean, you don't have to do that. I… could we just talk?"

He looked at her carefully, a crease of concern appearing on his brow again. "Sure," he said. "Of course. Let's go into my office."

He gestured over towards the dividing wall of bookcases, and she quickly took off her coat and hung it on the coat rack, then she turned and crossed through into the other part of the loft's expansive ground floor. Castle followed, and closed the partition door behind them.

Beckett glanced around the space she knew so well.

_This is where Richard Castle writes._ The thought of it still made her feel a little off-balance.

Her gaze fell upon the large flat-panel display off to one side of his desk, and again she felt a twist of nervousness in her stomach. She knew very well what she would see if the screen was switched on.

"Can I get you some coffee?" Castle asked, and she turned to face him. She gave him a small smile, and shook her head. He shrugged.

After a moment, he walked over to his desk and leaned against it, looking at her curiously.

"You know I'm always glad to see you, Kate," he began, and her pulse quickened slightly, "but can you give me a clue what's going on here?"

She took a deep breath, taking one final glance around his office before meeting his gaze again.

_Now or never, _she thought. _And I already know what never looks like. But where do I begin?_

There were so many things she wanted to say. They had all seemed incredibly complicated before, but when you got right down to it – when you had no more time left to wait and wonder and worry – they were all simple.

_I waited too long._

_I want more._

_I'm so sorry._

_I'm scared._

_I'm ready._

Each one just a straightforward statement. A brief confession.

Castle looked at her patiently, giving her time to get her thoughts in order.

_Just like… always_. Giving her another day. Another chance. Another moment. For now.

And then she knew exactly where to start, with another brief confession, acknowledging the one he'd made himself so many months ago.

She looked him in the eye, letting all her barriers fall away.

"I remember," she said.


	29. Chapter 29

_You remember._

It took Castle a moment to suspect what she meant, and then the anxious, wide-eyed look on her face confirmed it.

He closed his eyes briefly, then resigned himself to having this conversation. He could so easily just tell her it wasn't the time or the place, but he knew it was better to rip the band-aid off while she was giving him the chance.

"I know," he said quietly. "Or I was pretty sure. You never forgot, did you?"

She looked away for a moment, then met his eyes again. "I'm sorry," she replied.

He smiled, and there was such resignation in it that she took a small step towards him.

"Doesn't matter," he said, after a moment, trying hard to sound like he meant it. "I should apologise too. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable–"

"Castle, stop," she said, quietly but firmly, and he frowned but then closed his mouth.

She took another small step towards him.

"I wasn't ready to hear it back then," she said, not knowing where the words were coming from but praying they wouldn't dry up. "Or maybe that's just what I told myself. But I think about what you said every single day."

Castle shifted position slightly.

"I'm sorry I lied to you," Beckett continued. "I'm sorry I've… kept you waiting around for so long. It was selfish, and stupid. I've been a coward."

"Never," Castle said earnestly, and she felt a surge of emotion for this man who always put her needs before his own, even when he received only rejection in return.

She was about to speak again when he suddenly inhaled and then started to talk quickly.

"Kate, there's something I need to tell you too," he said, grimacing slightly, and she knew exactly what he was going to say. She cut him off by walking across to the armchair where the remote control for the large flat-panel display sat.

Castle's eyes widened as she picked up the remote, pointed it at the screen, and pressed a button. The display lit up immediately, showing the digital murder board for her mother's case. She turned to face him.

"That you've been looking into my mother's case?" she asked casually, and his mouth fell open in shock.

"That you've been keeping this from me for months too? That you did it to protect me, by _stupidly_ putting yourself in the line of fire, the same as always?"

Castle swallowed, his brain struggling to catch up. "I… but how?" he asked at last, his face noticeably paler than it had been a minute before.

"Maybe I'll tell you someday," she said, using the remote again to shut the screen off, then setting the small device back down. "But for now, I need you to promise me two things."

Castle nodded slowly.

"One, you won't pursue the case any further on your own," she said. He opened his mouth to protest, but she pressed on. "_If_ something else comes up, we'll talk, and we'll both decide what to do. Together."

He looked at her for several seconds, taken aback. At last, he just nodded again. "And the other thing?"

She took a calming breath.

"Two, we won't keep secrets like this from each other anymore."

"I never wanted to keep anything from you," he said quietly, and she took another small step towards him. He was almost within arm's reach now.

"I know," she replied gently.

There was a long pause, and Castle's gaze moved to the floor before he spoke again. His voice was soft but even, and somehow that made it worse.

"You came here to tell me to move on with my life."

She almost gasped in shock, but he didn't see it. His eyes were still fixed on the floor, head bowed as he leaned back against the edge of the desk. His arms were loosely crossed, and she wasn't sure how such a tall and powerfully-built man could look so defeated.

She glanced around the office, trying to grasp how he could have got it so wrong, but she already knew. She'd given him every reason to believe she wanted him to stop chasing her.

The door that led to his bedroom was half-open, and through it she saw a large, framed print of a bull elephant hanging on the far wall. Its dark, doleful eyes looked straight at her.

_Tick, tock_

She closed the distance between them and laid her palm against his chest, causing him to look up at her in surprise.

"No," she said softly, looking him in the eye and willing him to understand. "I came here to move on with mine."

She watched as his mind ran through scenarios, but the tension didn't leave his shoulders. He had uncrossed his arms, and his hands now gripped the edges of his desk.

_Always assuming the worst_, she thought. _When did I start making you do that?_

Her palm shifted slightly against his chest, smoothing a crease in his t-shirt, and she saw the brief flash of longing appear on his face and then immediately disappear again.

_Too much_. _You've been through too much._

"I know you want more in your life, Kate," he said quietly. "You've got every right. You're the smartest, toughest, most extraordinary woman I've ever known. You deserve to find somebody to… be with. You deserve the whole thing."

_You're still not getting it_, she thought.

She slid her hand from his chest up to his jaw, feeling the slight rasp of stubble there. His pulse quickened beneath her palm, almost matching her own.

"If we're not keeping secrets anymore, there's something else I have to tell you," she said, her eyes fixed on the barely-visible lines at the corner of his eye.

_Are those there because of me?_ she wondered, but the question was too painful to consider right now. She took a breath, and let everything except her feelings for him drain away.

"Oh?" he replied, and his voice wasn't quite steady. His jaw moved underneath her fingers, and she felt him swallow. His eyes were bright and unmasked. The vulnerability he felt with her was there for anyone to see.

_Somehow I'm going to fix all this_, she thought. _If you'll let me._

Her gaze flicked down to his lips instinctively, but she knew that he needed the words first.

Simple confessions. Two entire futures, hinging on a moment. She could almost feel a charge building up in the air, as if the universe was about to split in two; branching paths, veering off towards different destinies.

One last twist of nervousness chased through her, but when she looked into his blue eyes again, she couldn't even remember what there was to be afraid of.

His skin was warm to the touch, and his pulse thudded below her palm.

Somewhere in the distance, a church bell marked the beginning of the early service for Christmas morning.

She drew in a breath, and at last she spoke.

"I'm in love with you," she said.


	30. Chapter 30

Castle stared at her. For once, there wasn't a single thought in his head. Her last statement seemed to have chased away everything else.

He blinked. She was looking up at him, searching his face for any response. He swallowed.

He slowly replayed her words.

_I'm in love with you._

His mind probed at them like a cautious animal, approaching and retreating, always watchful and wary. Automatically, he picked apart the possible meanings. Figures of speech, and alternate interpretations. Synonyms and homophones. But there was really only one reason that people used that particular phrase, and he felt a wave of unreality pass over him.

Her expression was full of anxiety and anticipation, and he knew she was waiting for him to respond. He blinked again.

"What?" he said, a crease appearing on his forehead.

Beckett suppressed a sigh, not at all surprised at his response.

_I have to make you understand._

"What you said to me that day, at the funeral," she began softly, keeping her eyes fixed on his. "I wasn't ready to say it back, but I felt the same way. I _feel_ the same way."

Understanding dawned slowly on his face, tinged with caution and disbelief. He opened his mouth and closed it again.

Long moments passed as he tried to assimilate this new information. She watched every subtle movement of his face. His eyes remained a cloudy grey-blue. Eventually, he spoke.

"Why?"

The word was like a dagger in her chest, and she almost burst into tears right then and there.

_Oh god, Castle, no_, she thought, lifting her free hand to cup the other side of his face. It all made so much sense now.

Why he hadn't pushed harder. Why he hadn't eventually given her an ultimatum. Why he hadn't been more angry with her after the Summer, and Josh. Why he hadn't ever said the words again.

_Because he doesn't believe I could love him._

She felt a bolt of guilt tear through her. Everyone who truly knew him was aware that his public persona was an act, and that he had as many doubts as anyone else. His boyish enthusiasm and irresponsibility didn't erase his fears about other people's opinions of him. In fact, it was all a defense mechanism.

He had grown up without a father. The love of his life in college had left him behind, and he'd had two failed marriages. Then he'd raised a daughter alone, coping with his fame and protecting his child from it.

_And then there's me_.

He had been by her side for years. Shown her, in so many little ways, how he felt about her every day. He'd written books in tribute to her, complete with dedications that walked a razor-thin line between friendship and something much deeper. Everyone else saw it, even if she had refused to.

There had been gifts, flattery, and flirtation - but most of all he'd given her his loyalty, and his care. He'd risked his life for her more often than she could count. He'd even saved her life several times.

Then he'd told her that he loved her, and she'd disappeared for months - and as far as he knew at the time, she was with another man. Someone she'd chosen over him.

Now she'd come to make her confession, on the morning after the final night of this part of her life, and to him it just didn't ring true. The story didn't make sense - and he desperately needed it to.

Suddenly, the dark future she'd seen was there again, stretching out before her. It was so easy to see how it would unfold.

She'd caught him by surprise – of _course_ she had, because he hadn't been expecting this.

_Yet_, she thought._ Or maybe… ever._

"How can you ask that?" she said gently, stroking his cheek with her thumb as she fought to keep her voice from wavering.

His gaze had fallen to her shoulder, and she could feel the tension radiating from him. She took a breath and then just spoke from the heart, without testing her words first or wondering how they'd be received.

"Because… you stood by me. You're always there, and you always come when I need you. You're my partner, and I trust you, and I know you'll never let me down."

His eyes were still fixed on her shoulder, but she knew he was listening.

"Because you bring me coffee, and bear claws, and you make me laugh. You make me take care of myself, or you do it for me. You remind me to live."

His brow creased.

"Because you're Alexis's father. You play lightsabers and laser tag, and you're the best version of yourself when you're with her. And you've done such an amazing job."

The smallest smile flickered across his face for a moment, as he thought about his daughter. Beckett's thumb still brushed gently across his cheek.

"Because you're Richard Castle, and I've got a bookshelf full of your novels, and a membership card for your fan club. You created this incredible character and you say she's based on me, and you wrote a dedication that I've read about a thousand times. And because your books were what got me through the days after my mother died."

He met her gaze again now, startled. His eyes searched hers, and he saw the truth of it. Something passed across his face, and his jaw shifted slightly, but he still didn't speak. She took another breath.

"Because I look forward to seeing you _every day_. Because you say _always_, and you mean it."

Her voice did break now, and she felt the twin tracks of tears rolling down her cheeks. She watched as he traced their progress, with surprise and pain in his eyes. She didn't try to swipe the moisture away. She wanted him to see, and to finally understand.

"Because… you make me want more than I have, for the first time since… forever. Because you make me so scared that one day I'll call, and you won't be there."

He opened his mouth now, but she gave the barest shake of her head. Her breath hitched, but she pushed on.

"Because when I think about my life – the life I _want_ – you're the only one I see."

More tears fell, and now he reached up to gently swipe them away with his thumb, unconsciously mirroring the position of her hands on his face. She kept her eyes fixed on his, letting him see all of her.

"Because you're _you_, Castle," she said, her voice just a whisper. "_Because you're you._"

He stared down at her, his gaze more intense than she'd ever seen. She knew that he was weighing everything she'd said, searching for a way to believe what he so desperately needed to.

She saw the moment when he decided she was telling the truth.

He closed his eyes, his head bowing as he instinctively tried to hide his face from her. His jaw worked silently, the tendons in his neck tensing as he struggled with the avalanche of emotion that was now crashing over him.

For the first time, she was seeing just how hurt he'd been, and how torn up inside. Her heart went out to him, and again she felt panic and guilt rising up inside her. She moved one hand from his cheek to gently tangle her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck, and saw goosebumps appear on his skin.

He swallowed heavily, took a long, slow breath, and then opened his eyes again to look at her. She saw the moisture there, and another tear slid down her own cheek.

"Why now?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

"Because…" she began, but then tailed off. There were so many answers, but so few that would make any sense to him right now.

Her fingers draw the faintest patterns against his skin.

"Because I don't want to waste any more time," she said at last, her voice rising in pitch. She was crying openly now, but she didn't care.

"I've made you wait for so long, and I'm _so sorry_! I'll do anything to make it up to you if you'll just let me _try_!"

Her breath was coming raggedly, and her strength was leaving her. She said a silent prayer, then told him the only remaining thing that was repeating over and over in her mind.

"_I love you_."

The clock on the office wall marked one second, and then another.

He looked at her, then glanced over her shoulder, his eyes defocusing as he considered her words.

More long moments, marked with perfect precision.

_Tick, tock_

Her pulse thudded in her chest as she still clung to him, and she forced down the growing feeling of loss and despair that threatened to reach up and engulf her.

_Tick, tock_

Castle exhaled, and met her gaze again.

Every background sound faded to silence. His eyes were a vivid, piercing blue, and for a moment, even the clock paused.

_Tick-_

* * *

Far beyond the bright sunlight of this crisp Winter's morning, somewhere out behind the hidden blanket of stars, the great wheels and pulleys of destiny shuddered to a halt.

A heartbeat, as the world waited.

A brief lifetime between.

Another.

Her mother's heartbreakingly familiar voice, so full of warmth now, whispering in her ear so faintly that she was unsure if it really spoke anywhere but in her mind.

_Now, Katie… live._

And the universe leapt back into motion.

* * *

_-Tock_

A blast of icy air rattled the windows for just a moment, but neither of them so much as glanced away.

Castle's hand came up in slow motion, swiping one last tear from her cheek before gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He smiled.

The clock managed to tick just once more before he spoke.

"I love you too, Kate," he said softly. "I never stopped."

Her eyes fluttered shut as he closed the little remaining distance between them.

And then, at last, he kissed her.


	31. Chapter 31

When their lips finally parted, neither of them spoke at first.

They were both breathing heavily, her hands clasped at the back of his neck, and his resting on her hips, holding her close to him.

Beckett made an involuntary sound, and neither of them was sure whether it was a laugh or a sob. She felt his hands move to her back, pulling her into an embrace. Her forehead came to rest against his collarbone, and finally she allowed herself to let go of everything that was pent up inside her.

The stress, the guilt, the fear. The unbelievable events of the last few weeks. The nostalgia, the loneliness, the shock. The longing, and the incredible, all-encompassing relief that she was finally here.

Castle held her as she wept, murmuring soothing words in her ear, and tracing patterns up and down her back. Eventually she quietened, and lifted her head away from his chest to look up at him.

"Hey," he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled.

"Hi," she replied, a little shyly, returning the smile.

They stood that way for a few moments, both just coming to terms with the monumental change that had taken place.

"This is… it's kind of… huge," Castle said, and she gave a small nod.

He looked around his office without really seeing anything, a dazed expression on his face. After a moment, he looked at her again, a slight crease on his brow.

"Are you sure? Are we _really_… I mean, if you need some time–"

She reached up and pressed a finger to his lips briefly to silence him.

"I'm sure," she said, in a tone of complete conviction. "I want this, Castle. I want _you_. I don't want to wait another day, or another hour."

She paused, letting her words sink in for a moment before she spoke again.

"I want us to be together. Starting now. And I swear I'm going to do everything I can to make you happy."

"You know, Alexis was just asking me about that," he said thoughtfully. "Not even an hour ago."

_I know_, she thought. _I was there. Somehow._

"Oh?" she replied, again feeling a shiver run down her spine.

He nodded. "I told her–"

_That I could_.

"–that you could. Happier than I've ever been."

She laid her palm against his cheek again. "I want to. I'm going to try. I swear I'm going to try."

He smiled at her again, and it made his eyes sparkle.

"You never had to try, Kate," he said softly. "You just had to let me in."

She felt another tear roll down her cheek. "You _got_ in," she whispered. "A long time ago. I just… wish I'd been able to see it. I wasted so much time."

Castle gently pulled her into his arms again, resting his chin on the top of her head. He glanced over at the clock on the wall. It said 8:43.

"It's still early," he said.

She heard and felt his voice at the same time, her cheek pressed against the soft cotton t-shirt stretched over his chest. From the corner of her eye, just for a moment, she thought she saw three shapes over in the far corner of the office.

A man in a tan leather jacket. An older man, with dark skin, in a suit that was a little too long in the body. A flame-haired woman, tall and elegant.

Her breath hitched as she turned her head slightly to look, but there was no-one there.

_I finally got the message_, she thought. _Thank you. For everything._

She felt Castle's lips press gently against the crown of her head, and she gave an enormous sigh of relief, tightening her arms around his waist. After a moment, she lifted her head from his chest then stretched up to kiss him.

Her tongue ran across his lower lip and he opened his mouth to her, his hand moving possessively across her back. She made a soft sound in the back of her throat, and then felt him gently nip at her lip. She pressed herself fully against him, and he groaned.

A minute or so later, he reluctantly lifted his head slightly away, his nose brushing against hers. Their breath mingled, and each could feel the other's pulse thudding away.

"Best Christmas ever," he murmured breathlessly, and then they both burst out laughing.

Beckett leaned bonelessly against him as she shook with mirth, feeling all the tension drain away. Her head bounced on his chest as he unsuccessfully tried to suppress his own laughter. It was almost a full minute before they managed to get themselves back under control.

_We're going to be OK_, she thought, grinning into his t-shirt.

Castle sighed contentedly, and she looked up at him once again. He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to her lips, then they both heard the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs through in the main part of the loft.

As if on cue, her stomach rumbled loudly.

"Skipped breakfast?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow, and she shrugged bashfully.

"Had something important to do," she said, and he grinned.

"Let's get you something," he replied. "I could use some more coffee too."

"It's Christmas morning," she said. "You should be with your family. I can just–"

"_Kate_," he interrupted. "Didn't you say something about trying to make me happy?"

She paused for a moment, then nodded.

"Then don't go. Please. I… I don't think I can let you out of my sight right now."

She beamed at him. "I know what you mean. And I don't want to leave. But just, if you want to be with your family… it's OK."

_I want you to be a part of my family_, he thought, but he just smiled.

"I want to make you some breakfast, and then to open presents, and we can just… take it from there. OK?"

She nodded. "I'd like that." Then a look of dismay sprung onto her face. She lowered her voice slightly, her eyes wide. "Oh god, Castle, I didn't bring my presents for you and Alexis and Martha! They're still at my apartment!"

He chuckled. "It's no problem. We'll do Castles today, then we can do _Casketts_ tomorrow. Two days of presents is way better than one."

She pursed her lips, chastising herself for forgetting to pick up the large bag of gifts that even now was sitting near the entranceway back in her own apartment, but she'd had bigger things on her mind.

At last, she nodded once again.

"Then it's settled," he said, his hands coming to rest on her hips. His voice softened. "You already gave me what I always wanted."

She felt another overwhelming surge of affection for him, and she had to blink away the sudden moisture from her eyes.

"We should probably go and say hi," he continued. "Mother will want to wish you a Merry Christmas."

Then his smile faded slightly, just for a moment. "Uh… about all… this."

She immediately knew what he was going to say.

"I want them to know," she said quickly, and she didn't miss the way his face brightened again immediately. "If you do. I'm not hiding how I feel about you anymore. Your daughter and your mother mean a lot to me, Castle. Whenever you're ready, I want them to know that we're… together."

"Together," he repeated quietly, a warm smile spreading across his face. "My new favourite word."

She laid her palm flat against his chest, smiling at up him for a moment, then she raised an eyebrow. "What was your old favourite?"

He huffed, as if the answer was exceedingly obvious. "Ninjas."

She rolled her eyes, then pressed a brief kiss to his lips.

"It's up to you. We can handle this any way you want. Now about that promise of breakfast…" she said, and he nodded quickly, gesturing towards the door.

They walked over to the partition wall, and Castle opened the door, ushering her through ahead of him.

Martha and Alexis were puttering around in the kitchen area again, both dressed now, and Castle was pleased to see that Alexis had already started the coffee machine.

"Katherine, darling!" Martha called out, immediately making her way across the room to embrace Beckett. "A very Merry Christmas to you. Richard said you were working today. I do hope everything is alright."

Beckett nodded, smiling at the older woman. "I got the day off at the last minute. Sorry to just drop by."

"Oh nonsense," Martha replied. "You're welcome in this house any time of the day or night."

Beckett saw the warmth in Martha's striking green eyes, and she had a sudden flash of what she'd seen during the long night before.

_I won't let that happen_, she thought. _No matter what_.

"Thank you," she replied. "And Merry Christmas to you too. And you, Alexis."

The girl smiled back at her, as she took some fresh mugs from a cupboard. "I guess you'll be wanting coffee, Detective."

Beckett gave her an apologetic smile. "More than I can tell you."

The three adults walked over to join Alexis in the kitchen, Martha taking a stool near the raised countertop, and Castle and Beckett standing nearby.

"It's always such a _delight_ to see you, Katherine," Martha said, and Beckett smiled bashfully. "But whatever brings you here at this hour?"

Castle suppressed a smirk. His mother was incredibly nosy, and she had no compunction about satisfying her curiosity. He saw Beckett shift her weight onto her other foot.

"I… had to talk to Castle about something," she said. "Something that couldn't wait."

Martha nodded slowly, clearly intrigued. "I see," she said.

Beckett glanced around at him, and she saw the gleam of excitement in his eyes, alongside a hint of awe.

_I know_, she thought. _I can hardly believe it either._

He stepped over to stand beside her.

Martha looked from one to the other. "You're both being very mysterious. It's all terribly dramatic for Christmas morning."

Castle tilted his head in acknowledgement, and Beckett saw that Alexis was watching the scene curiously.

"For once, there's no mystery," Castle said, then he turned to look at her. Beckett's cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink, but she held his gaze. Silent communication passed between them.

_Last chance to back out, Beckett._

_I'm not going anywhere, Castle._

His arm had barely moved from his side before she stepped into his embrace, her arms snaking around his waist.

She felt his arms fold around her, and she let her head drop to rest against his chest once more.

Martha gasped, a tentative smile already appearing on her lips. Alexis was staring at them, wide-eyed. There was a long moment of silence.

"_Richard_," Martha said at last, her palm pressed theatrically to her chest, "do you have something you'd like to tell your mother and daughter?"

"Hmmm…" Castle said, not looking around, then he pressed a soft kiss to Beckett's hair. She looked up with a smile on her face, then she raised an eyebrow at him.

Castle only gave her a tight-lipped grin, and she pretended to sigh in exasperation, then she turned her head to look at the other two women.

"Martha, Alexis," she began, still standing within his embrace, "Castle and I… we're… together now."

"Oh my _god_!" Alexis squealed, clasping her hands together in excitement. Castle smiled warmly at his daughter, and Beckett blushed deeply.

Martha was beaming at them. She got up from her stool and came over to put one hand on Castle's shoulder and the other on Beckett's.

"I know I speak for everyone who knows the two of you when I say that I couldn't be happier for you both. It's _about time_."

Beckett felt a twinge of guilt chase through her, but Martha immediately squeezed her shoulder.

"I know that my son can be difficult to deal with, Katherine," Martha began, and Castle opened his mouth to protest but she silenced him with a quick, withering look; "but for his many flaws, he's a good, gentle, and kind man."

Castle's expression softened, and he felt Beckett's hand slide from around his waist to rest against his chest.

"You've both waited a long time for this," Martha said softly. "Don't waste another moment."

A tear rolled down Beckett's cheek, and she looked up at him and saw the emotion in his eyes too.

"Thanks, mother," Castle said, and Martha smiled once again at them both before returning to her stool.

"You OK there, pumpkin?" he asked, looking over at his daughter, and Alexis nodded, coming around the counter to shyly embrace them both.

"I guess this means you're going to be in a much better mood now, dad," she said, and Beckett grinned up at him.

He shrugged nonchalantly, then winked at his daughter. "I've never been happier," he said softly, and the girl smiled at him.

"Well god bless us, every one," Martha said archly, with amusement twinkling in her eyes. "And to think that he was intolerably cheerful on Christmas Day _before_."


	32. Chapter 32

_**Author's note: Here we are at last. Both happily and sadly, this is the final chapter – though there's a brief epilogue to come, and an afterword too. I'll post both of those immediately after this.**_

_**I'll miss seeing your reviews arrive in my inbox; you've been very kind. This was an unusual type of story to write, but I think it turned out rather well. If you have any closing thoughts, I'll be delighted to read them.**_

_**For now, let's make one last visit to this particular universe. I hope you'll enjoy it. Have a wonderful weekend.**_

* * *

In pride of place in the middle of the coffee table, there was a racing green safety helmet.

The morning had passed deliciously slowly, beginning with a quick breakfast for Beckett, then the opening of presents. Her gifts from the Castle family were set aside, to repeat the process tomorrow when she'd had a chance to return to her apartment for their presents.

All four of them had briefly taken a trip in the elevator down to his private parking level below, where behind a row of his usual vehicles including the Ferrari, a smaller shape sat in an empty bay, draped with a silver-coloured sheet that Beckett was pretty sure was actually a pair of stage curtains sewn together.

Alexis was delighted with the scooter, even starting it up and revving the engine briefly, while her father winced and tried to smile. Beckett quietly repeated her promise to teach the girl about road safety, and he relaxed ever so slightly. They all returned to the loft after Alexis had taken several photos of her new pride and joy, and she'd been carrying the keys around with her ever since.

Apparently, mid-morning hot chocolate was a Castle tradition on Christmas Day, and the lunch afterwards was light, in preparation for an early and enormous dinner.

Everyone had taken half an hour after lunch to make various calls, spreading Christmas wishes to family and friends. Beckett spoke to Lanie on the phone, and when her friend had asked where she was because of the background noise, she'd said _Where I want to be_. Lanie hadn't pressed the matter further, but she did insist that Beckett call her the following day for a proper conversation, and told her to say hello to the Castles.

They had both settled for texting Ryan and Esposito, each of whom replied quickly enough. The exclamation-marks in Ryan's replies were a sure sign that the drinking had already begun in his household.

The loft was filled with the enticing smell of food cooking. Dinner would in another hour or so, and for the moment, preparations were well in hand. Beckett was still feeling slightly guilty about intruding on the family's Christmas, but no-one had discussed whether she was staying for dinner – it seemed to be assumed.

Castle detoured past the couch on his way from the kitchen to collect his phone charger from the office. Beckett was sitting next to Martha, who was tapping away at an iPad. Christmas music played softly in the background.

Castle stopped behind the section of the couch where Beckett was sitting and leaned down. She turned towards him as his head appeared beside hers, and smiled.

"You OK?" he asked warmly, and she nodded, reaching up to lay her palm against his cheek. He smiled, then closed the distance between them and kissed her.

She felt warmth chase through her, and a feeling of excitement bubbled up in her chest at the newness of it all, and everything that lay ahead. Their lips parted, and she sighed in contentment.

"Ah, young love," Martha said wistfully from beside her, and Castle's smile became an exaggerated grimace.

"I'll be back in a minute," he said, winking at Beckett, and she slowly let her hand fall from his cheek, brushing her fingers along the line of his jaw.

Castle had a look of utter contentment on his face, and he lingered for a moment, looking at her, before he walked off towards his office.

Beckett turned to look at Martha, who was smiling at her.

"I do, you know," she said quietly, and the older woman raised an eyebrow. "Love him, I mean."

Martha's face softened again, and she reached out to clasp Beckett's hand in hers. Her eyes were immediately misty, and for a moment, Beckett felt like she was sharing Christmas Day with her own mother again.

"Have you told him?" Martha asked quietly, and Beckett nodded, feeling warmth in her cheeks. Martha squeezed her hand.

"And naturally, he said…?" she asked, and Beckett beamed at her.

"He loves me."

A look of such relief and delight passed across Martha's face, and Beckett felt a powerful surge of affection and gratitude towards her.

"He's loved you for a very long time, Katherine," Martha said softly. "And I've never seen him feel quite this way about anyone else. You can be sure of that."

She paused, considering something for a moment before continuing.

"I know my son, and your relationship is your own business, of course, but… I do believe that if you wanted it, he'd willingly give the rest of his life to you."

The tears came quickly this time, and Martha reached into a pocket to hand her a tissue. She took it gratefully, and wiped her eyes.

"That's what I want," Beckett replied, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "That's everything that I want."

Martha squeezed her hand once more. "Then take the advice of a woman who has seen a great deal of life's ups and downs: treasure these times. You never know what the future will bring."

_You showed me exactly what it would bring_, Beckett thought. _But that was before today._

She nodded, and Martha patted her hand before returning her attention to the iPad in her lap.

"Why don't you help me with this?" Martha said kindly, lifting the device over so that Beckett could see the screen.

A web browser was open, with several tabs along the top. Each seemed to be a real estate listing, in various neighbourhoods around the city. Martha peered at the screen for a moment, then tapped a tab to bring it to the foreground.

The page title mentioned _Studio, second floor – Five year commercial lease_, and the dominant feature was a large, colour photograph of an expansive indoor area, tastefully lit by morning sunlight. There was a check-list of amenities immediately below.

"I'm looking for new premises for my acting studio – something with room to grow. There are several very promising options."

Martha tapped the photograph and it was exchanged with another, showing a reception area. She continued tapping, cycling through the gallery of images.

A changing room, with shower stalls.

An office.

A beautiful shot of the main studio area, with the sun streaming in through the far windows.

A section of an overhead street map, showing the studio's exact location.

An exterior shot of the building, with a side entrance highlighted.

A long, straight stairwell, with a handrail down one side.

Beckett felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

_That's where it happens_, she thought. There was no way to be sure, and yet she _was_ sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

For the briefest moment, a shape – perhaps with flame-coloured hair – appeared in her peripheral vision, over towards the windows of the loft, but she didn't dare to look towards it.

She swallowed.

"Uh… so, second floor?" she said, relieved that her voice sounded normal enough, despite the fingers of ice running down her spine.

Martha nodded. "It's above a storage facility, so noise shouldn't be an issue. The entrance is just to the side."

She swiped back to the exterior shot, then to the stairwell again. The caption read _Stairs (no elevator access)_.

Beckett became aware of the clock on the wall.

_Tick, tock_

There was a large, green button on the upper-right of the web page, labelled _Enquire_. Martha's finger was hovering over it when Beckett spoke.

"But… won't you need to move a lot of stuff in and out?"

Martha glanced at her, puzzled. "Hmm?"

Beckett nodded towards the iPad. "You'll have props, scenery, costumes. Furniture. I guess there's a lot of equipment to shift for theatrical work."

Martha nodded. "Certainly."

_Tick, tock_

"So wouldn't it be better to go with somewhere that has a freight elevator? Or even just a regular passenger one. I think you'd regret not having it."

Martha considered her words, then tilted her head in acknowledgement.

"Perhaps you're right, dear," she said at last. "This is _precisely_ why you're welcome here at any time."

_Tick-_

Beckett smiled as naturally as she could, but her eyes were locked on Martha's finger, still hovering over the green button.

Then her hand moved, ever so slowly.

Her fingertip came into contact with the smooth glass surface of the device, and she swiped the tab off the screen and out of existence.

_-Tock_

The windows rattled with a sudden surge of wind from outside, and Martha momentarily looked in that direction before tapping the next browser tab.

"Ah, now _this_ one is a delight," she said, shifting the iPad once again so Beckett could see better. The property was a ground-floor warehouse renovation that had lately been a gym, with floor-to-ceiling glass windows all along one side. It opened onto a small paved square, with a miniature park in the centre.

Beckett exhaled, feeling her pulse begin to return to normal. In her peripheral vision, the shape over by the window had disappeared.

Castle came back through from his office and again made a beeline for the living room area, standing behind and between the two women, his hands resting on the back of the couch. He watched silently as Martha flipped through the photos of this latest property.

Alexis came back downstairs and took a seat in an armchair nearby, tucking her legs beneath her.

After a few moments, Castle moved one hand to rest on Beckett's shoulder, and she turned her head to look up at him fondly. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.

She caught sight of his wristwatch, glinting in the afternoon sunlight. It said 3:12 PM.

Her heart seemed to skip a beat, and she drew in a quick breath.

_But… Stephanie texted him at 3:10. I saw it._

Almost as if he could hear the thought, Castle idly fished his phone out of his pocket with his other hand, and she turned to look at the device with awed fascination. He pressed the Home button with his thumb, and the screen lit up. She could read it easily from where she sat.

**3:12PM**

**Wednesday, 25****th**** December**

There were no notifications.

At some point today he'd apparently changed the background image on the lock screen, too. It was a photo he'd taken of her at some point in the precinct; she was completely unaware she was being photographed, and she was laughing.

Castle pressed the Power button to switch the device's screen off, then he slipped the phone back into his pocket, putting his hand on her other shoulder.

Beckett reached up and tugged his hand towards her, pressing her lips briefly against his palm.

"I'm getting hungry," Alexis announced from her position in the armchair nearby, her attention focused on her own iPhone.

Castle chuckled. "Won't be too much longer, pumpkin," he said.

Alexis glanced up, saw their hands clasped together, and she smiled.

"You're staying, right, Kate?"

Beckett felt warmth bloom in her chest at the girl's uncharacteristic use of her first name, and she turned her head to look up at Castle again. His gaze was already fixed on her, his eyes sparkling with affection.

"If your dad wants me to," she said.

This time it was Castle who gently tugged her fingers up towards him, pressing a tender kiss to the back of her hand. His eyes closed briefly, then opened again to meet hers.

"Always," he said.


	33. Chapter 33

_**Epilogue**_

The blonde woman walked along a quiet street somewhere in the city, her long coat fastened against the Winter weather.

Snowflakes danced in the air. Her red scarf flapped in the wind, vivid in the afternoon sun. High heels clicked against the sidewalk, only slightly muffled by the shallow blanket of white.

A taxi moved along the street, and its driver caught sight of her. He looked at the woman appreciatively. She was strikingly attractive; tall, elegant, and moving with purpose. He drew level with her, slowing by only a fraction. The clock on the dashboard read 3:16 PM.

He watched as the woman reached up to adjust her scarf, and saw that she wore a striking ring on the fourth finger of her left hand.

_Figures_, he thought. _The good ones are always taken._

The low-angled, brilliant orange sunlight made colours untrustworthy. As he squinted to take one last look at her while he drove by, he wasn't even quite sure whether she was a blonde or a brunette.

She wore a secret smile on her face, and she briefly glanced in his direction. For a moment, he thought that her eyes changed from blue, to green, to brown.

The cab driver blinked and returned his attention to the road, regretfully pulling away to continue searching for a fare during the slow Christmas Day shift. As he reached the next intersection, he took one last glance in the rear-view mirror, but the woman was nowhere to be seen.

Just a cluster of snowflakes, glistening in the fading light, rapidly drifting apart in the breeze.


	34. Chapter 34

_**Afterword**_

_**For my wife, and muse. You're extraordinary.**_

* * *

_**All good things must come to an end. Thank you for joining me on this journey, and especially for all your kind words. There will be other tales, in time.**_

_**To those who said that these words made them cry: thank you, particularly. There's no greater human endeavour than the pursuit and nurturing of love. Whatever of that emotion came through here, it was from how I feel about my wife.**_

_**In every Castle story, there are clues – and this one is no exception. It contains a secret.**_

_**If you find it, Detective, you'll know who I am – and if you know who I am, you'll know how to contact me.**_

_**If you manage to do that, I'll send you an e-book version of this entire story, for your Kindle, phone, tablet, or computer.**_

_**Either way, be sure to favourite this story, so you have it ready when the days shorten, the temperature falls, and we once again approach the closing of the year.**_

_**Thanks for reading.**_

_**\- RedGrayBall / ?**_

_**28**__**th**__** February, 2015**_


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